Breakdown
by Bravada
Summary: John Cena's got a soft spot for a certain Legend Killer, and Wade Barrett is determined to use that to his advantage. Cena/Randy
1. Aftermath

John Cena was _furious_.

His sneakers stomping on the floor, he was storming down the hall, bright blue eyes filled with rage. His lips were twisted into an angry frown, and he was moving quickly, ignoring everyone he passed. John Morrison, Melina, Santino, they all backed out of the way as soon as they saw him coming. They'd all see what had happened…they all knew exactly why the Chain Gang Soldier was pissed. Morrison had tried to say something to him, tried to calm him down, but Cena shrugged him off quickly, causing the smaller man to sigh deeply and walk away. He didn't want to deal with a pissed off John Cena…hell, nobody did. Thick hands clenched into fists, Cena's arms swung at his side as he continued his rampage down the hall, still not meeting the eye of anyone who looked at him.

_Randy Orton stood in the ring, arms at his sides, hands curled into fists. He was frowning slightly, and those pale eyes of his had a sharpness to them that wasn't there before. John stood outside of the ring, hands on his hips, chewing on his bottom lip as Wade Barrett and the rest of the Nexus slowly made their way to the ring. Otunga went to the left, flexing his biceps threateningly as his dark eyes glowered up at the WWE Champion. Heath Slater and Justin Gabriel flanked to the right, both wearing arrogant smirks on their faces. Justin in particular looked mighty pleased with himself, his lips curled into a sickening, toothy grin. And then of course came their leader. Wade Barrett's cold eyes were glaring at Orton with such intensity it made Cena's stomach churn. It didn't take long for Orton to realize the Nexus was surrounding him…as he realized this, he turned around, and his cerulean eyes narrowed, focusing in on John Cena. _

Fuck, John had known what was coming. He'd been in the same situation before…he'd been attacked by the Nexus. He knew how they worked, knew they'd never face someone like Randy Orton, the Legend Killer himself, one on one. No, they'd outnumber him and use any disgustingly cheap tactic they could to defeat him. John had been attacked by the Nexus before…he knew how vicious they were, knew that they would show Randy absolutely zero mercy. Jaws clenching tightly, John shook his head as he continued walking backstage, determined to arrive to his destination without being intercepted by Wade Barrett. The boring, white cinder-block walls passing by him quickly, Cena couldn't help but think back.

_Randy Orton stared at him with those icy eyes, and John Cena knew that he wasn't going to go down without a fight. He didn't; actually, he attacked first, striking Otunga in the face with a crippling punch. The crowd roared at that, and chants of R-K-O could be heard resonating throughout the stadium. Cena could feel his heart pounding in his chest as the rest of the Nexus jumped Orton, and he was silently cheering to himself, begging Randy to escape, begging him to somehow gain the upper hand and evade the punishment that was sure to follow. He put up a good fight, he was Randy Orton after all, and certainly no pushover. But in the end, even he couldn't take on four men at once._

Cena's fists tightened so much that he was sure his fingernails would draw blood. Fuck…he couldn't believe he had just stood by with the Nexus beat the living hell out of a man that most certainly didn't deserve it! He couldn't believe he'd allowed such a cheap, cheating attack to take place! What the fuck had he been thinking? Why the fuck didn't he jump in and help Randy? Sure, they weren't especially close, hell they were practically enemies…but that didn't stop John's chest from hurting as he watched Randy Orton get smacked around by fucking Wade Barrett and his stooges.

_Somehow the Nexus managed to get the better of Randy Orton. Otunga and Slater grabbed him by each arm, and with grunts of effort, they heaved him into the ring, tossing his tan body across the floor like he was trash. Cena winced as Randy's back smacked the ground, and the Viper's handsome face immediately contorted into pain. Growling both in anger and agony, Randy rolled onto his stomach, eyes squeezed shut. Wade Barrett was smirking down at the fallen man, and John could feel his fingers itching to punch Barrett in the teeth, but he remained still, staring up at Randy. Otunga, Slater, and Gabriel didn't waste much time; they immediately rained down their fists and feet upon Orton, punching and kicking him with such force that nearly every fan in attendance was cringing. And then it all stopped, and Wade Barrett was demanding that Cena enter the ring…_

John finally found what he was looking for: Locker Room 12. Supposedly the locker room Randy Orton was staying in. Raising his fist up to the wooden door, he made as if to knock, but then he hesitated, his hand levitating in the air uselessly. He didn't know how Randy would react upon seeing him…sure, in the end, John hadn't laid a finger on him. But knowing Orton…he'd probably still find a way to blame Cena for everything. And John wouldn't have blamed him, it was at least partially his fault, wasn't it? He just stood by while four men roughed Randy up…hell, he didn't make a single attempt to try and help him. Sure, it was obvious to anyone who was watching that John was getting no pleasure out seeing the WWE Champion get fucked over by the Nexus. But still…would Randy attack him on sight? Would he try to RKO Cena for even attempting to speak with him?

John shook his head, determination filling his thoughts. If Randy was pissed, so be it, but John would never forgive himself if he didn't at least check up on him. Orton had taken a beating…who knew what kind of shape he was in? John went to knock, but then stopped. He blinked slowly, giving a small frown. Sighing quietly, he dropped his hand to the door handle and twisted it, letting himself in.

The door opened silently, and John took a single step forward, the muscles in his left forearm flexing as he held the door open. Leaning in, his blue eyes scanned the room slowly. It didn't look all that much different from any of the other locker rooms: there were two wooden benches, a few metal lockers lining the walls, a black gym bag filled with clothes sitting on the tile floor. An opening on the far wall appeared to lead to showers and a bathroom, judging from the large amount of steam that was spewing from the entrance. Blinking, John took another step forward, still gazing around the room. Turning to his left, the opposite direction in which the door opened, and finally found what he was looking for.

Randy Orton was sitting on the ground, his back against the wall, legs stretched out in front of him. His torso was bare, causing his muscular abdomen and heavily inked arms to be on full display. He must've just gotten out of the shower, because there were tiny droplets dotting his chest and his shoulders, and his short brown hair had that dewy, wet look to it. Dark jeans clung to his hips, hanging low so that Cena could see a nice V-cut. His feet were bare—yes, he'd definitely just recently gotten out of the shower. The entire room had a steamy, humid feel to it, the air feeling heavy with dampness.

Randy suddenly looked up, pale eyes narrowing, and his mouth twisted into a crooked scowl.

"What…what the fuck do you want?" He snarled, breathing heavily, his throaty voice sounding strained.

Cena took a few more steps in, letting go of the door and allowing it to swing shut behind him. Orton's body tensed as John grew nearer, and Cena could feel his pulse accelerating as he looked down at the Viper. Randy didn't look good, to say the least. There were dark purple bruises winding along his left side, over the bottom portion of his rib cage. As he drew closer, Cena could see a dark, reddish purple bruise staining the skin over Randy's jaw, about an inch or so to the side of his chin. Orton's eyes were bloodshot and half-lidded over, like he was incredibly tired, and he was taking deep slow breaths, like the simple act of breathing was taking a lot of effort out of him.

"I said, what the fuck do you want?" Randy repeated, glaring up at Cena, his cold eyes narrowing dangerously.

"I…I wanted to see if you're ok." John said slowly. God, Randy looked like he was in so much pain…why the fuck did he let Barrett do this?

"Yeah, I'm fucking fine, now turn around and leave me the fuck alone." Randy snapped, grimacing and reaching a hand up to rub his side tenderly. His tattooed biceps flexed impressively as he massaged the bruises, pain evident in his reddened eyes.

"I'm sorry." Cena replied, still looking down at Orton. He didn't know why he was apologizing…he was almost a hundred percent sure Randy certainly wouldn't have helped him, had their roles been reversed. So why did he feel so guilty?

"Sorry? You're sorry?" Randy laughed, a croaking dark sound, "Fuck off Cena. Standing here and telling me you're sorry isn't going to fucking help me, is it?"

"Look, I came here to try and help you," John scowled, pointing a finger at Randy, "You don't have to bite my head off—"

Randy hissed sarcastically, "Oh yeah, I'm just so fucking happy to see a member of the team that just attacked me on national television—"

"I didn't lay a damn hand on you, you've at least got to give me that!" John retorted quickly, trying to swallow down his building frustration.

"I don't give a fuck." Randy growled, teeth clenched as he fidgeted, shifting his weight from one side to the other, "You're still a part of Nexus."

"Look, I came so I could try to help you—" Cena began, placing one hand on his hip and indicating towards Randy with the other.

"Help me? You came here to fucking help me?" Randy reached up, pressing both his hands against the white wall behind him, his body shaking as he tried to lift himself up. His legs quivered, but he managed to stand up, lips pursing into a pain-filled grimace as he glared angrily at the man in front of him. His abdominal muscles tightened nicely under his tan skin as he tried to stand up taller, causing the bruises on his side to look even darker, even larger.

"Maybe you're not getting this, Cena," Randy spat, leaning against the wall, breathing heavily, "But I don't want…I don't want your fucking help!"

Randy stumbled then, almost losing his balance, and John stepped forward, arms outstretched as if to help him, but Randy leaned back immediately, putting as much distance between him and John as he possibly could.

"You may not want my help, Randy," John said slowly, holding out his hands, palms up, "But you need it. Look at yourself, you can barely stand."

"I'm fucking fine!" Randy hissed, but even as he said it, his body gave out. He slid down slightly, his legs buckling from under him. Letting out a cry of pain, Randy let go of the wall, clutching his side, pale eyes squeezed shut. He would've fallen, would've crumbled to the floor, had John not rushed forward. As Randy fell forward, John was there to catch him. His left arm wrapped around the Viper's shoulders, and his right reached out, resting on his stomach, steadying Randy's slipping body. John grunted with effort as he suddenly felt Randy's weight, but he remained still, doing everything in his power to keep Randy standing.

"You see?" John said quietly, feeling Randy's hot skin under the tough of his steady hands, "You need my help."

"Just…just leave me alone…" Randy groaned, trying to stand on his own. Though he still protested, the fight had left his voice, and John could taste victory.

"Come on Randy, at least let me help you to your room." John reasoned, shifting his weight so that Randy was once again leaning against the wall. Once he saw that Orton was able to stand on his own, he released his grip, backing away slightly, his stony eyes staring hard at the hurt man in front of him.

"Just let me at least help you to your room." John repeated carefully, looking down at Randy, "I'll leave you alone as soon as I know you're ok, but let me help you get there."

Randy looked like he was about to start another fight as he scowled deeply, but, to John's surprise, he hung his head, staring at the floor.

"Fine." Randy muttered, still scowling unhappily, "You'll leave me alone after that?"

"Yeah, sure, whatever you want Randy." John sighed, "So…where's your shirt and shoes?"

* * *

Wade Barrett was leaning against a cinderblock wall, his hands stuffed into his jean pockets. Superstars and Divas alike passed by, and almost all of them avoided his gaze, shifting their eyes downward, hurrying past the leader of the Nexus as fast as they could. He couldn't help but smirk at that; apparently his attack on Randy Orton had not only put Orton in his place…but it also told the rest of the roster that Nexus was not to be trifled with. If they could take out the WWE Champion, if they could control John Cena himself, there was no telling what they could do to the rest of the underlings on the roster. Wade was finding that he greatly enjoyed this newfound respect that the others had for him, almost as much as he had enjoyed beating Randy Orton black and blue. The only thing better then slamming his fist into Randy's jaw was turning and seeing the look on John Cena's face when he did it. The so-called Champ looked ready to strangle Barrett alive…his anger made Barrett smile to himself Finally, _finally_ he seemed to be getting inside Cena's head…

Speaking of the newest member of the Nexus, Wade had seen him doing something most…_unexpected_.

After Raw, Wade had gone back to the Nexus locker room, ready to deal with Cena's obvious rage. To his surprise, however, Cena was nowhere to be found. At first this irritated Barrett greatly, and he spent a good amount of time searching for his teammate. His anger had grown with each passing minute he couldn't find Cena, and he'd even briefly toyed with the idea of hunting him down at the hotel, and that was when he finally saw him…

Randy Orton was limping down the hall, and walking at his side—his meaty arm wrapped around Orton's shoulders, offering him support—was none other then John Cena himself. Wade ducked out of view as soon as he saw them, and—thankfully—neither Randy nor John realized that Barrett was watching them. At first Barrett was enraged that Cena would even consider aiding the WWE Champion, but then Wade could feel the gears in his mind turning: why on earth would Cena be helping Randy? The two weren't friends…at least, not that anyone knew. Watching the two stumble out of the arena, Barrett couldn't help but notice that Randy was actually letting John help him… Obviously, despite what had happened earlier, Randy still had some amount of trust for Cena…and Cena seemed to…_care_ for Randy. At least enough to go help him when he was injured.

Leaning against the cinderblock, Barrett smiled to himself.

He'd always been told that John Cena had no weakness, that John Cena was virtually unstoppable, once he set his mind to something. But Wade Barrett had managed to find something that really hurt Cena…Randy Orton. Wade hadn't planned on doing much more with Randy—he only attacked him that night because he wanted to make sure he was hurting at Bragging Rights that Sunday. But now it appeared Randy Orton could play a far larger part in Wade's scheme… It seemed that destroying John Cena could be as simple as hurting someone he cared about…

Wade Barrett smirked to himself, his eyes darkening.

Randy Orton didn't know it yet, but the Nexus certainly wasn't done with him.


	2. Randy's Room

"This is your room? 512?"

"Yeah, here, I got the key."

John and Randy stood at room number 512, Randy leaning against the white drywall, John standing in front of the navy blue door. Reaching into his back pocket, Randy slipped out a keycard and quickly handed it over to John. John reached up, and then his fingers lightly brushed against Randy's, and Randy's hand recoiled back like he had touched fire. He looked away, his pale eyes focusing on the floor, and John turned to slide the keycard through. A loud click rang out as the door unlocked itself, and then John pushed it open. Randy stood up, and John held his arm out, beckoning towards the inside of the room. Orton scowled deeply, but he reached out, placing a hand on John's thick arm to steady himself as he walked inside. Sneakers dragging across dull blue carpet, John and Randy slowly limped in, the injured man wincing noticeably as he shuffled forward.

"You ok?" John asked quietly, looking out of the corner of his eye at the younger man.

"You don't need to baby me, Cena." Randy scoffed, forcing himself forward, "I'm not made of glass."

"Yeah, sure, whatever you say Randy." John rolled his eyes. He didn't know why Orton was putting on the macho act, but he was going to end up hurting himself even worse if he didn't start to accept the fact that the Nexus did a real number on him.

"Just help me to the bed, then you can leave me alone." Randy muttered, his scowl deepening.

Cena did as he was told, carefully steering Randy towards the queen sized bed that stood in the center of the room. It was neatly made, the floral patterned comforter tucked in at the sides, the large fluffy pillows arranged in an orderly fashion along the head of the bed. The rest of the room was unremarkable; a few suitcases lined the wall, and there was a small kitchen on the far side of the room. To the left was what looked like a sizeable bathroom. Gripping John's arm, Randy turned and lowered himself down onto his bed, grimacing at the pulsing pain that rippled through his abdomen as he sat down. John remained standing, looking down at the seated Viper, his sapphire eyes clouding with worry.

"What?" Randy snapped, eyes narrowing as he looked up at John. He had one hand over his side, rubbing himself tenderly through the black fabric of his t-shirt.

"They got you good, didn't they?" John murmured, frowning down at Randy.

"What do you mean?" Randy asked, his voice taking a suspicious tone as he tilted his head to the side, looking up at John curiously.

"Here." John's hand reached up, and he drew his thumb lightly across the bluish bruise on Randy's jaw, "Who did that to you?"

"Hey!" Randy jerked his head away, cringing, "That hurts you know!"

"Sorry." John dropped his hand back down, eyes still staring down at the Legend Killer.

They went quiet then, Randy glaring up at Cena. The suspicion was still there, but not so much the animosity. Reaching up, Randy traced the bruise on his jaw, fingertips skirting the darkened flesh. It was a little swollen, definitely tender to even the lightest of touches. Cena was watching him so carefully Randy couldn't help but feel like he was being examined. Dropping his hand, Randy suddenly began to feel extremely self-conscious. He didn't know why John would think it was ok to touch him…would he do it again? Randy chewed on his bottom lip, feeling very skittish all of a sudden.

"Barrett." Orton said quietly, looking up and meeting John blue gaze.

"What?" John shook his head as if he wasn't really paying attention.

"It was Barrett." Randy repeated, reaching up and tapping his jaw slowly, "The others held me down, and he punched me. Hard."

John's hands curled into threatening fists, and he finally looked away, his stare dropping down to the floor as he spoke, "I'm sorry."

"Whatever." Randy shrugged, scowling once again, "It's not your job to protect me. I don't need your help anyway."

"I…I shouldn't have let them do that to you." John continued, frowning sadly.

"Look, I just want to forget it happened, so drop it." Randy hissed angrily, shifting on the bed.

"Ok, fine." John shrugged his ripped shoulders, "I should get going. Barrett's probably throwing a fit because I'm not back in the Nexus locker room…"

"Does he…does he know you're with me?" Randy asked slowly, tilting his jaw up as he looked up at the standing man.

"No, he doesn't know where I am." John replied. Randy immediately looked relieved; he sank back down into the bed, looking more relaxed than before.

"Good. He'd be pissed if he knew…wouldn't he?" Orton smirked slightly then, a handsome grin clouding his face as he crossed his tattooed arms across his chest.

"Yeah," John chuckled, his face twisting into a dimpled smile, "He'd be absolutely furious if he knew I was blowing them off for you."

"You should go, then. Wouldn't want your little team leader to get too angry with you." Randy uncrossed his arms, leaning back slightly, his icy eyes still focused in on John.

"Yeah, right." John rolled his eyes once again, "What about you? Are you going to be ok? You need help like taking off your shirt or something?"

"Are you asking if you can undress me?" Randy smirked arrogantly, leaning back on his forearms, his abdomen stretching out across the bed. He didn't know why he said it, but as soon as he did he could feel his heart start pounding in his chest. Teasing John Cena wasn't something he was really all that used to…

"Do you _want_ me to undress you?" John fired back, laughing slightly, placing his hands on his hips.

"I _want_ you to leave me alone so I can go to sleep." Randy grumbled, leaning back so that he was lying down on the bed, body stretched out lazily.

"Yeah, yeah, I hear you Randy." John smiled down at Orton. It felt strange, acting so light and natural with Randy. They'd never been friends, so talking so casually to Randy Orton felt weird to John. It certainly seemed like something he could get used to.

"Hey, throw me your phone." Cena said, holding out his hand.

"Uh…no?" Randy snorted, shifting on the bed, the comforter soft against his back.

"The faster you give me your phone, the faster I'll leave you alone." John reasoned, grinning down at the frustrating man before him.

"Fine." Randy replied. He reached into his jean pocket, hand shuffling around, and then he pulled out a sleek black cell phone. Flicking his wrist, he tossed it to John, who caught it effortlessly in his waiting hand.

"I'm putting my number in here." John said as his fingers worked nimbly across the touch screen, "If you ever need any help…or if you ever get into any trouble, give me a call." As he finished he tossed the phone onto the bed. It landed next to Randy's hip, sliding across the sheets and towards the Viper's still frame. John turned around then and started heading toward the door, shoes padding silently across the cheap carpet.

"You really think I'm going to call you, Cena?" Randy yelled out as he sat up, blue eyes focusing on John's retreating body.

"Well…at least you have the option." John shrugged before disappearing behind the door.

As soon as he vanished, Randy laid back down with a deep sigh. Staring up at the ceiling, he couldn't help but think about John Cena. He didn't know why John wanted to help him so bad…he didn't know why John was so adamant about being there for him. It was strange, definitely something Randy wasn't used to. As much as he wanted to, he couldn't deny that John had been immensely helpful. Randy's side hurt more then he cared to admit…the Nexus had been more successful in their attack then he'd like people to know.

Rolling over onto his stomach, Randy had to bite his tongue to stop himself from crying out in pain. Taking slow, deep breaths, he willed himself to ignore the agony, to remain strong. He came from a family where pain was a weakness, and he wasn't about to show anyone—especially John Cena—any kind of weakness. Despite how helpful he had been, Randy couldn't help but wonder if he could trust John. He'd been kind, friendly even after Randy made it quite clear he wasn't going to reciprocate. What if John had only helped him because Barrett was ordering him to spy on Randy? He wouldn't put it past the Nexus leader to do something like that…but John's concern for Randy had seemed so real…

Kicking off his shoes, Randy crawled forward on the bed, muscles in his arms flexing and stretching as he pulled the blankets apart. He didn't care that he was in jeans, he just wanted to sleep, just wanted to get a few moments away from the pain. Sliding under the blankets, Randy reached up and tugged his shirt off. He and John Cena had never gotten along…but somehow, this night, they'd managed to be civil with each other…and it wasn't all that bad. Well, Randy thought as he laid his head on the pillow, no matter how nice Cena was to him, he wasn't going to back off. He was going to do whatever it took to keep his championship…and if John tried to help Barrett, well then Randy would have to take him down too. Even if he didn't want to, he'd have to make sure Cena didn't cost him the championship.

Eyes feeling heavy, he began to drift off to sleep with one final thought on his mind:

If Wade Barrett ever found out how much it bothered Cena to see him in pain…Randy would find himself in a world of trouble.

* * *

Wade Barrett stood in the Nexus locker room, leaning against the wall, his eyebrows knotted in concentration. It had been almost an hour since he'd seen John Cena and Randy Orton leaving together…and his patience was growing thin. He knew John would return, it was only a matter of time, he just wished the so-called Champ would hurry his treacherous ass up. The rest of his team were growing more and more frustrated with each passing minute.

David Otunga was leaning on the wall opposite of Barrett, a small frown crossing his dark face. He had his arms crossed over his massive chest, and his legs crossed at the ankles. He'd sighed with annoyance when Barrett told him they were waiting for Cena to return, but he hadn't complained. That was one good thing Barrett could say about Otunga; he had his temper far more in check then the younger members of the Nexus. Heath Slater had showered and changed, and he was sitting on a bench, resting his pale chin on his fist. The redhead had been vocalizing complaints every few minutes, and he had been growing more and more irritating as time passed by. Justin Gabriel was pacing back and forth, shoes moving across the tile floor, his dark eyes narrowed, clearly displeased with the time it was taking Cena to return.

The door opened quickly, and everyone went still as John Cena himself—clad in his purple and yellow ring gear—stepped into the room.

"About damn time." Justin snarled, reaching up and running a hand through his black hair.

"Where the hell were you?" Heath asked angrily, sitting up straighter as he looked up at Cena.

"Back off," John growled in response, taking a defensive stance, "My life doesn't revolve around you guys. I had shit to take care of."

"We've been sitting here waiting for your slow ass!" Justin sneered, jabbing a finger into Cena's chest.

John took a step back, clenching his jaws so hard the muscles in his cheeks bulged. He turned, cold eyes staring at Wade, who hadn't yet moved.

"You better tell your little lap dog to back off, Barrett, or he's going to end up picking his up teeth off the ground." John hissed, turning red in the face with anger.

Justin took another step forward, clenching his hands into fists, "You think you fucking scare me—"

"Alright, Justin. That's enough." Wade replied quietly as he stood up and away from the wall, his long, lanky form stretching to its full length.

Justin closed his mouth, but his smoldering brown eyes made it quite clear he wasn't happy with Barrett's commands. He turned around and stormed away, deciding to lean against the wall next to Otunga. David must not have liked his space being invaded, for he frowned deeply as the slightly smaller man approached. He kept his mouth shut though, fortunately.

"Now, like Justin said, we've been waiting for you Cena." Wade continued as he slowly walked forward, eyes trained on John, "Care to explain where you ran off to so quickly?"

"No, I'm not going to explain. It was personal." John snapped, folding his arms across his chest, tilting his jaw upward defiantly.

"Right. _Personal_." Wade smirked toothily, taking yet another step closer to Cena, "Well then, let's get to business: Bragging Rights. You know your job, right Cena?"

John scowled deeply, his eyes darkening, "I know you want me to stop Randy from beating you."

"Yes." Wade nodded, halting a few feet in front of John, "To be more precise, I want you to ensure that he does not walk away with that championship."

"Look, I don't think I can attack someone that doesn't deserve it." Cena sighed deeply, reaching up and rubbing his eyes tiredly.

Justin Gabriel groaned loudly, rolling his eyes, "Oh for fuck's sake…"

"Sorry I don't like cheating as much as you do." John snarled, turning his furious gaze towards Gabriel.

"Fuck off, Cena." Justin spat back, pursing his lips in an angry pout.

"Don't think of it as cheating, Cena," Barrett said slowly, directing the attention back to himself, "Think of it as keeping your job."

"I'm sorry," John shrugged, his shoulders heaving up and down, "But I just don't think I can hurt him without a good reason. I'm not that kind of guy."

"Alright Cena." Wade replied evenly, brown eyes focused on John, "Let's make a deal. You don't have to hurt him, just make sure he doesn't win. Throw him out of the ring, whatever, that's fine. I'm not asking you to beat him up, just make sure he doesn't walk away with that championship."

John's eyes narrowed suspiciously, but he remained silent, mulling the thought over.

Wade Barrett had too much power over him…he couldn't afford to disobey him, not if he wanted to keep his job. On the other hand, he really didn't think he was capable of hurting someone without good cause—especially Randy. John didn't know why, but watching the younger man writhe in pain on Raw had set something off in him. He didn't like seeing him in pain, didn't like seeing Wade Barrett put his hands on him. Yeah, that was probably what it really was…he didn't like watching Wade Barrett touch Randy—even if it was in a violent manner. He detested Barrett, and Randy…well, he really didn't know what he thought of Randy. He thought they were rivals, thought they might've even been enemies, but something about the younger man struck a chord for John…especially after tonight.

Wade Barrett was offering him a way to keep his job, not hurt Randy, and not allow Barrett or the rest of the Nexus to put their hands on Orton. He couldn't really find any reason to say no…

"You won't hurt him? Won't let _them_ hurt him?" Cena jerked his thumb at the rest of the group.

"As long as you hold up your end of the bargain, I will as well." Wade nodded.

"Ok. Deal." Cena replied slowly, not taking his eyes off Barrett, "I'll make sure you win…just don't let the others touch him."

"You have my word." Barrett grinned darkly, his brown eyes flashing.

"Is that it? Can I go now?" Cena grumbled.

"That's it. Feel free to leave." Wade nodded once again, gesturing towards the door.

John Cena didn't need to be told twice. He threw one last dirty look at Justin Gabriel before turning around and quickly exiting, disappearing behind the locker room door. Silence filled the room then, Gabriel and Otunga still leaning against the wall, Slater still seated on the wooden bench.

"Now, the rest of you, listen up and listen good." Wade Barrett turned toward the rest of the group, his cocky smirk dropping into a dark scowl. Immediately everyone in the room straightened up. Heath Slater stood up, hands curling into fists, ready for action. Justin Gabriel and David Otunga both straightened up, Gabriel's mouth tilting in a smirk, Otunga's eyes brightening with renewed interest.

"I don't want Randy Orton walking away from Bragging Rights with the championship…in fact, I don't want him walking away at all." Barrett snarled, pointing a finger at his team, "I don't give a fuck what Cena wants, I want Randy Orton barely able to crawl back to his locker room. Is that clear?"

Heath Slater and Justin Gabriel both nodded, eager, twisted smirks crossing their faces. David didn't look quite as pleased; he frowned deeply, eyes falling to the floor. He opened his mouth like he was going to say something, but he must've thought better of it, because he clenched his mouth shut and looked back up, giving Wade Barrett a small, jerky nod.

"You're all dismissed." Barrett muttered, turning away from the others.

He didn't look at them, instead choosing to stare at the tile floor. As soon as the others were gone, as soon as he heard the door slam shut and silence paint the room, he pulled out his cell phone. Scrolling through his contacts, he quickly found who he was looking for. He held the phone up to his ear, grinning widely when he heard that familiar voice answer.

"It's Barrett. Listen, you still want in?" Wade's smile grew more sinister as he heard the man's response, "Good, good. You're going to have to earn it though…and I've got just the way for you to do it. It's simple enough…I just need you to pay someone a visit…"

* * *

**Thank you to all my reviewers, ya'll are what keep me writing. Going on vacation for the weekend, so no update till Monday or Tuesday probably.**


	3. A Bottle of Rum

It was Wednesday night, and Randy Orton found himself sitting alone at a bar.

Tuesday had been uneventful; he'd lain around in bed practically all day, his body too sore to even consider anything requiring physical effort. Randy had half expected Cena to come checking up on him, but Tuesday came and went without a visit from the Champ. He'd been a little disappointed, to tell the truth. Tuesday had been incredibly boring; he felt terribly lazy for sitting around all day, but the thought of getting up had been too painful.

Most of Wednesday had turned out to be just as disgustingly dull. Randy had almost resorted to banging his head against the wall, he'd been so damn bored. When the boredom got so bad he even considered calling Adam or Ted or Cody…it was then that he knew he had to get out of his hotel room. He wasn't on the best of terms with Adam, Ted, or Cody anymore, and the fact that he was even considering contacting them was proof enough that he had to do something, lest he go berserk from sheer boredom. As night fell, he'd finally decided that a trip to a bar was in order—after getting attacked by the Nexus and confused as all hell by John Cena, Randy definitely felt like he deserved a damn drink. Luckily enough, there was a good sized bar not far from the hotel.

Dragging himself out of bed, he'd hurriedly showered and dressed in a tight black t-shirt—one that showed off his slim waist and clung to his biceps nicely. He'd matched the shirt with tight, dark denim jeans that clung to his ass in an indecent way—he told himself he wasn't dressing up to attract attention, but the truth was he'd been rather lonely the past day or so. Randy had sat around in his room, not making contact with anyone, and—despite his natural dislike for most other people—Randy had found that being alone constantly was getting old. He had decided that he wouldn't be opposed to some attention at the bar…and he knew he'd attract attention. Call it arrogance, but Randy knew he caused heads to turn, and he hadn't expected tonight to be any different.

After an hour or so, and over six shots of rum, Randy found himself sitting on a red leather stool in front of a polished wooden bar, chatting with the bartender. His name was Daniel, and he was a large guy (even by wrestling standards), with spiky blonde hair and several metallic piercings in both ears. He'd been friendly to Randy since he entered, and—as Orton threw back shot after shot—he found himself very much enjoying Daniel's company. It was nice to have someone to talk to, and—since it was a Wednesday night—Daniel didn't have many other patrons, so he didn't seem to mind standing around and talking with Randy all evening long.

The bar wasn't really all that nice. There was the stench of alcohol and sweat in the air, and the thin smoke of cigarettes lightly floated through the room, permeating the bar with its thick scent. It had been pretty empty from the start—a few girls barely old enough to drink had been obnoxiously loud in the far corner, but they'd left not too long after Randy's third shot. Other than them, there hadn't really been that many people. A black haired man with a nice smile had been winking at Randy from across the room. He was sitting with two or three of his friends, all of them throwing back beer after beer. His friends weren't anything special to look at, but the brunette had slowly but surely grown more attractive to Randy with each passing gulp of liquor.

It was sometime after shot six—or maybe seven? Eight?—that Randy swiveled around in his stool and smiled stupidly at the black haired man, pursing his lips in the sexiest smirk he could manage. He was successful; the man perked up, cocking an eyebrow towards the sky as his brown eyes traveled up and down Randy's body, soaking him all in.

"Alright sugar," Daniel leaned forward, placing both hands at the bar, his hazel eyes narrowing at the Legend Killer, "I think you've had enough."

Randy swiveled back around, his hazy eyes trying their best to focus on his newest friend, "I'm fine, I'm fine. Get me some more rum, actually."

"I don't think so," Daniel shook his head, reaching forward and wrapping his fingers around the empty shot glass in front of Orton, "If you're seriously starting to think about leaving with that guy, you've definitely had enough."

He drew his hand back, pulling the shot glass away.

"Aw what the fuck do you care if I leave with him anyway? You just met me." Randy grumbled loudly, leaning back and forth, swaying slightly in his chair. The floor had begun to swim beneath his feet, and the walls around him seemed like they were rotating, spinning around. Damn, maybe Daniel was right…maybe he _had _had a little too much.

"Listen sugar, I ain't new to this, I can tell when someone really wants to spend the night with a stranger and when they just think that's what they want." Daniel said smoothly, crossing his arms across his chest. He was wearing a dark red shirt that was making Randy's eyes hurt as he stared at it.

"Yeah, like you know what's good for me." Randy snorted, drunkenly pointing his finger at the blonde bartender, "You just met me. Who knows, maybe a good fuck is all I need."

"Sure, maybe you do need a good fuck, but not from him. Not from his type." Daniel shook his head, his earrings blinking in the dull, hazy light of the bar.

"Oh yeah?" Randy leaned back, bobbing in his chair, his blue eyes flashing, "Then what type do I need? I haven't had a boyfriend in almost nine months…this being single shit _sucks._"

"You know what, Randy?" Daniel replied reasonably, this time pointing his own finger at the Viper, "You need to get yourself a nice guy. You seem like the type who needs a good guy to keep you in line."

Randy laughed darkly, scowling deeply as he finished, "Yeah, right, I've tried being with nice guys. That shit don't work for me." What he said was true; he'd tried being with nice guys before, but that just wasn't his style. He was too confrontational, too ready to fight if it came down to it. His lovers all told him the same story: he was too much to handle, too much anger and aggression in a single person. That was why he'd slowly drifted away from the nice guys…they just couldn't deal with his fiery nature. Maybe that was why his past few relationships had turned out so shitty…he'd given up on the good guys and started messing around with the bad ones, and they proved pretty quickly that they weren't any better. One cheated on him relentlessly, another made the mistake of trying to punch him in the face, and another just up and disappeared one day.

"Ok then…maybe you need a nice guy who's not afraid to break the rules." Daniel nodded evenly, gesturing towards Randy with his hand, "Either way, do yourself a favor, head home alone tonight."

"Why the fuck should I listen to you?" Randy growled, pouting slightly as he shook his head, trying to calm his drunken thoughts. Fuck…what had he been thinking? Six shots? Maybe more? Damn…he was going to feel like hell in the morning.

"I can't really give you a good reason to listen to me, Randy," Daniel sighed, rubbing his amber eyes tiredly, "All I can tell you is that in the morning you'll be very glad you did."

Randy fell silent, considering what the Bartender was saying. His thoughts were moving all slow like, and he was having a hard time stringing together one concept after the other. Somehow he managed to come to the conclusion that sleeping with the black haired man wouldn't make him feel better…sure, for maybe an hour or so he'd actually feel like he had someone who cared about him, but that would come and go quickly, and then he'd be left alone just like before. Randy wasn't a sap, wasn't weak, but the loneliness had been biting at him. Not to mention that the black haired man had bright blue eyes just like a certain someone who had been on Randy's mind all day…

"Alright Daniel, I've decided I'm going to listen to you." Orton said triumphantly, puffing out his chest.

"Good." Daniel smiled, revealing straight, white teeth, "Do you need me to call a cab for you?"

"Nah," Randy waved him off with an inked arm, "I'm walking."

They said their goodbyes, gripping each other's hands in a fierce handshake. Daniel told him to come back anytime, Randy readily assured him that he would, and then Randy stood up and made for the door. He stumbled slightly, feet catching on the floor, but he walked with such confidence that he somehow managed to make his stumble look sexy, like he meant to do it. The black haired man stood up like he was going to approach Randy, but one stony look from the bartender caused him to sit back down, an unhappy scowl crossing his handsome face. Randy made his way to the door pretty quickly, his mind a swirling mess of drunken thoughts.

Pushing the door open, he strode outside, heading towards the left. The hotel was only a few blocks down; it would take him less than ten minutes to return. Cars zipped by, the flashing whiteness of their headlights making Randy's head pulse. Stuffing his tan hands into his jean pockets, Randy tried his best to walk quickly and confidently. He didn't want to appear drunk, didn't want to attract any attention from some cops or thugs. His black shoes scraping across the dirty concrete sidewalk, Randy suddenly looked down, noticing the dark black shadow of a person behind him. Turning his head, his icy eyes scanned over his shoulder, looking for whoever it was that was causing the shadow.

Nothing. Not a single person behind him.

He shrugged slightly and then turned, still continuing his shaky walk.

It'd been nice getting out. He'd made a friend in Daniel, and something told him that he'd made the right choice when he decided to listen to the blonde. Daniel had reminded him a lot of Hunter, what with his massive body, thick blonde hair, and unnecessary protectiveness over Randy Orton. Hunter had always been a mentor to him. Sure, they'd fought, especially when Hunter stopped seeing Randy as a student and more as a threat. And then Randy had gone on his rampage, punting all of Hunter's loved ones in the head… Randy bit his lip, cringing noticeably as he kept walking, legs pushing forward relentlessly. He and Hunter had reconciled since his time with the Legacy, but he still didn't like to think about all the terrible things he'd done to Hunter. Sure, Hunter probably deserved it, he was no saint, but now that they were at least civil with each other again, Randy found that his previous actions left a bad taste in his mouth.

As he approached the hotel—a large, pinkish tan building at least ten floors tall—he quickly pushed open the door. Luckily there wasn't any people in the lobby; nobody there to get angry at a drunken man barely able to walk to the elevator. Feet padding against maroon carpet, Randy approached the machine. He reached out a hand, his skull covered biceps flexing as he pushed the button for the fifth floor. A soft pinging sound rang out as the shiny, silvery elevator doors opened, and Randy stepped in, hoping nobody would follow in after him. He was in luck; just as the doors shut he heard the sound of the hotel doors swinging open. Orton's blue eyes narrowed as he peered out, trying to see who it was that entered the hotel after him. After all, there was a very good chance that it was another WWE employee, probably someone he knew. But the doors slid shut before he got a chance to get a good look at the person entering.

Randy could feel his drunken brain go into a frenzy as the floor beneath his feet suddenly rose up, and he nearly fell over from the sudden motion. Reaching out, he gripped the golden handle that ran along the walls of the elevator, catching himself just in time to stop from falling. Damn, he really had drunk a lot…

He'd never really been all that smart with his alcohol…he always blamed that on Evolution. The team always went out drinking their faces off whenever they were successful in their matches—and that had been pretty often. Hunter had always kept a watchful eye on Randy, always trying to stop him from consuming too much. But Dave Batista had been the opposite: he always egged Randy on, encouraging him to sneak drinks behind Hunter's back. Randy later learned this was because Dave wanted to get in his pants—something that would eventually cause a rift between Hunter and Dave. But that was history; he couldn't remember the last time he'd drunk with Hunter. He did somewhat miss their mentor/student relationship…it'd been a long time since he'd been close like that with someone, and he and Hunter clicked so well together. Hunter was like a much older brother to him; someone full of wisdom, yet still fun to hang with. Sure, Randy had been close with Ted and Cody, but he always felt like a third wheel to them—especially after he found out they were dating.

The elevator finally rested at the fifth floor, and Randy stepped out, turning to his right and heading to room 512. He stopped in front of his door, the walls and floor swirling in his vision, and reached into his back jean pocket, fingers groping around for his keycard. He eventually gripped the thin plastic and pulled it out. Just as he was about to slide it through the lock, he heard that soft pinging sound again as another elevator stopped on his floor. Maybe if his mind hadn't been churning from the rum he would've realized that that meant someone was coming onto his floor. But he didn't, he simply swiped his card through. The locked clicked open loudly, and Randy reached forward, placing a hand on the door. He pushed it open gently, getting ready to step in…

"Hey."

Randy turned at the sound of the voice behind him, his liquored brain extremely confused and surprised.

The punch came so fast he didn't have time to react. A fist shot forward, catching him in the cheek. Randy cried out, falling to the floor, his left hand reaching up and grasping at his face. It hurt so much…like his face had run into pure concrete… God, who the fuck had punched him? Why the hell would they— Before Randy had time to comprehend what was happening, he was punched again and again, both times in the stomach, both times sending explosions of agony through his body. He roared out in pain, rolling over to his side, curling up in a fetal position. He clutched at his ribs pathetically, his teeth grinding roughly against each other. Pain filled his body, all the way down from his cheek bone to his ribcage, pulsing through his arteries and veins. He opened his eyes eventually, but the man was gone.

Groaning in pain and anger, Randy reached into his pocket and drew out his cell phone. His mind was screaming at him not to, that he would probably regret it, but he didn't care. He hurt so, so bad…fuck, he needed someone to take the pain away. Fuck, he hoped he wouldn't regret what he was about to do…

Laying on the scratchy carpet, Randy scrolled through his contacts before he finally found John's number.

* * *

**Ok...so I have a quesiton for all my readers, and if you could take the time to answer it in a review, I'd really really appreciate it! Who do you guys see as the top and bottom in Cena/Randy? Thanks a lot guys, your reviews keep me going! **


	4. Fightin' Words

John Cena stood in the elevator, his stomach twisting with worry.

His eyes were still red with sleep, but he couldn't have felt more wide awake. Randy Orton had called him—something he'd never expected. When he'd given Randy his number, it'd been more as a courtesy then anything. He never really thought Randy would actually use it…not that he was upset that he did. John had been barely awake when he answered his phone, but as soon as he heard Randy's voice he perked up, sitting up in his bed. The Viper hurriedly told him something about McGillicutty attacking him, and then he had actually asked Cena if he would come and help him out. John had leapt out of bed at that, quickly throwing on a white t-shirt, some jeans, and a pair of white Nikes as he told Randy he'd be right up. That was a solid ten minutes ago, and now John was practically pacing in the elevator, willing it to move faster. Thankfully it was a little past midnight, and there weren't any people roaming around. At least, not that John had seen so far.

Bouncing on the balls of his feet, John glared at the buttons in the elevator, wishing the damn thing would hurry up and get to the fifth floor. Randy had sounded strange on the phone; his words had strung together, making him a little difficult to understand, and he seemed to jump from one thought to the next without much of a transition. Most of all, though, he sounded—and John couldn't believe he was saying this—he sounded…afraid. Ok, maybe not afraid, Randy Orton wasn't really afraid of anything, but he certainly sounded…tense. That alone made John willing to get up and go to him, even though he had been dead asleep when Randy called. He knew Randy wouldn't sound tense without good reason… The thought of Michael McGillicutty attacking Randy made John want to punch something, preferably McGillicutty's teeth. He had hoped he'd pass the bastard on his way to Randy's room, then at least he could've gotten some revenge for Orton. But the little rat had managed to slip away, fortunately for him.

After what seemed like an eternity, the elevator finally rested on the fifth floor, the doors sliding open. John stepped out in a hurry, almost jogging down the hall to Randy's room. He didn't know why he was so anxious…if Randy had been well enough to call him, he couldn't have possibly been hurt too bad, right? He made it to Randy's door easily enough, and—just as Randy said he would—he'd left the door cracked open, allowing John to simply push the door in and step into the room.

The first thing that he noticed was that it was dark. He could feel the carpet beneath his feet, and he could barely make out the dark shape of the bed in the center of the room, but other then that he couldn't really see anything. The second thing that he noticed was that the AC seemed to be on full blast; goosebumps trailed across his skin as soon as he stepped forward. The loud hum of the vents told him that the air was definitely on as far as it would go. Reaching over to his side, John placed his hand on the drywall, blindly feeling around for a light switch that he knew was there. Flicking his thumb across the switch, he hurriedly turned the light on. Painfully bright yellow light filled the room, piercing John's vision so abruptly that he had to squint his eyes shut before slowly easing his eyelids back open.

Randy was sitting on the bed, his hands in his lap. He was hunched over slightly, his pale eyes staring at the floor, a small, sad frown crossing his face. For a brief moment, John stared at the so-called Viper, frozen in place. He couldn't help but feel like he was being allowed to see something very private, something he knew Randy wouldn't want him to see. The younger man looked so…hopeless, exhausted, even depressed. For a moment, John suddenly realized how much stress, how much shit Randy had been put through the past few days. And now this…another attack. After maybe two or three seconds, Randy looked up, his eyes locking on John's. As soon as he made eye contact, Cena couldn't help but wince. Randy's purple bruise on his jaw line was still there, but now there was another bruise, a bright red mark over his cheekbone that was quickly turning darker with each passing second. There was a small cut on his lip, a dried drop of blood staining his mouth. On top of all that, his eyes were a watery, tired pink, with gray shadows beneath them. It was then that John realized that Randy was dressed up: he was wearing a tight black shirt, his arm muscles straining against the sleeves, as well as a dark pair of expensive denim jeans. Had he gone out? John mulled this over for a second, wondering who Randy would go out with…as far as he knew, the Legend Killer didn't have many friends. Everyone knew about his relationship with Hunter…but Hunter had been back home with Stephanie and Shawn for months now…

"Cena." Randy smirked up at him, his face turning into a mask of arrogance and false confidence. John saw right through it, but he decided to play along. Randy had been through enough, he didn't need John psychoanalyzing him too.

"What the hell happened?" John demanded, his voice almost painful as he looked down at the seated man.

"Fucking McGillicutty." Randy snarled, his hands clenching into fists, "He surprised me, fucking little shit."

"I don't get it," John frowned, tugging on the hem of his white shirt, "Why would he attack you?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Orton snapped, narrowing his eyes dangerously, "That fucker Barrett obviously put him up to it. And, like the rest of you, McGillicutty decided to be a little bitch and listen to him."

There was quite a bit of anger in Randy's voice, and John had to take a deep breath to calm himself down, to tell himself that Randy had every right to be angry. He had a feeling Orton was trying to get a rise out of him, trying to channel his anger into someone else. John wasn't going to play that game though, he'd remain collected. He'd show Randy that he wasn't like the rest of the Nexus.

"Well, come on, let's clean you up." John offered his arm out.

At first Randy stared at him, remaining defiantly still. Eventually, though, he reached out, placing a single hand on John's arm. Grunting with effort, Randy raised himself up, clenching his teeth tightly together to keep from crying out in pain. He effort to hide his agony was not lost on John, though, and the Champ could feel rage pulsing though his body as he watched Randy Orton struggle just to stand up. Fuck, what he wanted to do to Wade Barrett right now…if the leader of the Nexus thought he could go behind John's back like this, well, he had another thing coming. Barrett was definitely going to be hearing from John about this bullshit…

Randy was leaning hard against John, and as they began to move forward, he started hunching over on his left side, where the bruises from before were. It seemed McGillicutty had hit him there as well. Taking slow, unsteady steps, Cena carefully steered the younger man towards the bathroom. They were standing close together, Randy leaning into Cena's touch, John wrapping his arm around Randy's shoulders…and that was when Cena smelled the liquor.

"Randy," John huffed, his eyes widening incredulously as he looked to the side, "Have you been drinking?"

"No." Randy said quickly. But his eyes didn't meet John's…

"You absolutely reek of alcohol." Cena rolled his eyes, still marching—or rather, stumbling—forward.

"I don't know what you're talking about." Randy growled in response, but he had reddened slightly in the cheeks.

"You're drunk, aren't you?" John shook his head. Well, that would explain the weird mood swings…and why Randy hadn't been making much sense. Great, not only was he going to have to deal with a hurt Randy, he was going to have to deal with a _drunk_ hurt Randy.

They walked into the bathroom slowly, feet sliding across the beige tile floor. John reached in front of Randy and quickly turned on the light in there as well. It was a simple enough bathroom: there was a sizable walk in shower to one side, and a toilet and good sized counter to the other. There seemed to be a beige and blue theme going on, with the bathroom countertop being a dark blue marble that matched the rest of the decorations in the room. The emptiness of the bathroom clearly proved that it was a hotel, though.

"Here, sit on the counter." John released Randy and straightened up, "Can you get up there on your own?"

"I'm not crippled." Randy muttered. Placing his hands on the countertop, he cringed noticeably as he hoisted himself up. To John's surprise, the counter was high enough for Randy's feet to dangle over the sides. Sitting down, he suddenly seemed much smaller, much less threatening.

"Take your shirt off." John commanded nonchalantly, standing in front of the seated Viper.

Randy was surprisingly compliant: he gripped the edges of the black fabric and tugged his shirt off effortlessly, casting it to the tile floor when he was done. John couldn't stop his eyes from sliding away from Randy's and down to his abdomen, taking in the sculpted muscles. Randy had tan skin that was pulled tight across impressive muscles; and anyone—even John—had to admit that he had a very attractive stomach. Randy's dark jeans clung to is hips, sliding just low enough to show off jutting hip bones. To his side, just over the ribcage, John could see the bruises. They had been purple before, but now they were almost black, with thin cuts streaking across the middle. There was a small amount of blood seeping from the wounds, but not all that much. Certainly not enough to be concerned about. The cuts seemed to be pretty superficial…

"Like what you see?" Randy taunted, his lips curling into an arrogant grin.

"Randy, I see you half naked every time we're in the ring together. This isn't anything new." John shrugged, even though he knew that somehow this was different. Maybe it was the jeans, yeah, it had to be the way they were wrapped around Randy's hips, revealing the V cut of his lower abdomen. Or maybe it was the way they were alone, not in front of millions of viewers…somehow, that made this experience entirely different from all the times John wrestled against Randy.

"Yeah, sure, keep telling yourself that." Orton shrugged back, "Whatever makes it easier for you to do this."

"Fine. Let's start with your face." John turned to the side, opening one of the drawers beneath the counter. He immediately found what he was looking for: a white washcloth, fresh and clean. Pulling it out, he reached over and turned on the sink, moving the knobs so that warm water was flowing out. Holding the washcloth under the faucet, John quickly wet the fabric and then brought it up to Randy's face. He stepped forward then, almost standing between Randy's legs. John didn't know why, but he was suddenly struck by the image of Randy walking down the ramp, his thighs bared for all to see…he did have nice legs, didn't he?

"This is probably going to hurt." John said quietly in warning. Not waiting for a response, he pressed the white cloth against Randy's cheek bone, his fingers holding the wet washcloth against the bruise. Randy let out a hiss of pain, but, to his credit, he managed to remain still.

"Fuck, that hurts!" Randy groaned, his hands gripping the edge of the counter.

"I can't believe Barrett would fucking do this…" John muttered quietly, shaking his head, still holding the cloth over Randy's face.

"I don't…get why you think it's so surprising." Randy hissed, speaking past clenched teeth.

John hesitated, then spoke, still quiet, "He told that he wouldn't hurt you. That he wouldn't let the others hurt you." But even as he said that, John realized it wasn't true. Wade had only agreed not to let Randy get hurt at Bragging Rights…

"Yeah, and you actually believed him?" Randy rolled his eyes, fidgeting under John's touch, "Do you like seeing me get hurt Cena? Or are you really that stupid?"

John pulled the cloth away from Randy's cheeks, scowling deeply, "I'm trying to help you here. You don't need to be an ass to me."

"Whatever…I don't know why I fucking called you anyway." Orton snarled, leaning back, away from Cena.

"I don't know why you called me either, you don't seem to like me at all, you're not nice, and you're drunk as all hell." John retorted angrily, turning to the side to once again hold the washcloth under the running water.

"I didn't _have_ anyone else to call." Randy mumbled. As soon as he spoke he went very quiet, his face reddening as if he said something he hadn't meant to. Randy's eyes fell to the floor then as he refused to meet Cena's probing stare.

"Here, let me do your stomach now." John replied slowly. He held the cloth up and Randy leaned back slightly, stretching out his torso so that the bruises were on full display.

"Is this going to hur—_ah_!" Randy cried out in mid sentence as John pushed the warm cloth against the cuts, directly on top of the blackened bruises, "Fuck! God damn it!"

"Sorry." John apologized, knowing that Randy was probably going through some intense pain.

"I'm—fuck!—I'm in a lot of trouble for…for Bragging Rights, aren't I?" Randy stuttered, leaning forward so that he and John were eye to eye, maybe a foot away from each other.

"What do you mean?" John asked, meeting Randy's angry glare.

"You're not going to let me win, are…are you?" Orton grumbled, looking hard at John. He shifted slightly, the muscles in his stomach tightening and pulling.

John remained silent for a few moments, holding Randy's gaze, and then he spoke slowly and carefully, "I'm…I'm going to do what I have to."

"What the fuck has he got on you, Cena?" Randy asked, his voice dipped in rage and disgust, "You're really going to help that punk take away my championship…just for your fucking career?"

"What the hell would you do Randy? This is my life, everything I've ever—" John began.

"Save it, Cena." Randy spat in response, "I've heard you say it all already. I just can't believe you'd stoop that fucking low for a guy like Wade Barrett."

"You don't understand." John snarled, feeling the anger and frustration build up inside of him. Fuck, he didn't know why Randy's words were getting to him so badly…

"Does he fucking suck you off, Cena?" Randy leaned forward even more, his face mere inches away from John's, his eyes filled with blue fire, "Is that it? Well? That why you're his little fucking errand boy? Is that what I got to do to get you not to screw me over on Sunday? You want me to fucking suck your cock, _John_?"

He didn't know whether it was because Randy was insinuating that he was involved with Wade Barrett or because Randy had offered to go down on him, but John lost all self control at that point. He was so god damn angry at everything, so fucking tired of all the shit the Nexus was putting him through. And here was Randy, throwing it all out in the open…

John slammed both fists down on the counter on either side of Randy's legs. Leaning forward, he scowled deeply, he eyes flashing with pure rage.

"You don't fucking know anything, Randy!" John roared in anger, "Don't sit here and pretend like you understand what I'm going through, because you don't!"

"All I fucking know is you're going to screw me over this Sunday! We both fucking know it, but for some reason you're here helping me! You're here helping undo what your fucking teammates just did! Whose side are you on John? You can't have fucking both!" Randy snarled in response, his own hands clenching into fists.

"Why the fuck did you call me, Randy?" John spat, glaring hard into Randy's eyes.

"Why the fuck did you answer? Why the fuck did you come? You keep asking why I called, well, you didn't fucking have to come help me! So why the hell did you?"

John didn't know why he did it. Maybe it was all the adrenaline flowing through his veins, maybe it was because Randy was sitting there with no shirt on, looking particularly delicious. Cena reached forward and roughly grabbed Randy by the waistline of his pants, yanking the younger man forward. Randy didn't have time to react before he suddenly felt John's lips on his own, and then John Cena was kissing him for all he was worth. John's hand was tightly gripping Randy's jeans, and he was holding him still as his lips worked against Randy's, pressing roughly against Randy's own mouth. Randy gasped at the sudden assault, and it was then that John pushed his tongue forward, forcing it into Randy's mouth. He wasn't sure how the Legend Killer was going to react, but he didn't care, the feeling of Randy's soft lips against his own, Randy's hot tongue against his own, was incredible. Eventually, Randy seemed to melt into the kiss, and he pushed his own tongue forward, and then their mouths were battling for dominance. John eventually won out, leaning forward, his grip tightening on Randy's hip to the point where his fingers were kneading into Randy's upper thigh. Randy moaned slightly at that, a high pitched whine that made heat rush between John's legs. He continued the attack, his lips moving across Randy's mouth, his fingers itching to touch Randy's tight stomach…

And then John let go suddenly, stumbling backwards. Randy looked up at him, his icy eyes wide with uncertainty.

"I…I should go." Cena muttered.

He turned and hurried out, leaving Randy sitting on the bathroom counter, alone.

* * *

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed! The majority of you said you saw Randy as the bottom, and I have to say that I agree with you. Anyway, thanks so much to everyone who reviewed the last chapter, I really appreciate it! Reviews motivate me to write!**


	5. Kiss and Make Up

As his phone rang for the eighth time that morning, Randy rolled onto his back, letting out a frustrated, tired groan of annoyance. It was nearing noon, but he was still laying in bed, the white cottony sheets clinging to his body. He was wearing only a pair of navy blue sweatpants, and the sheets were sticking to his skin, wrapping all up around him, twisting around his limbs as he turned from side to side. No matter how high he turned up the air, it seemed the blankets always stuck to him, something he found very irritating and uncomfortable. Then again, all his lovers had told him he had hot skin…maybe that was why the fabric was holding on to him so desperately. Streams of light were seeping in from the blinds that covered the lone window in the hotel room; just enough brightness to cast thin shadows this way and that. Not enough to make him want to get out of bed, though.

The familiar bass introduction of Metallica's 'For Whom the Bell Tolls' was sounding out loudly from Randy's sleek, black cell phone—which was sitting on his the wooden nightstand next to his bed, the white light of the screen flashing angrily. Clenching his teeth, Randy rolled onto his side, facing away from the phone as he grabbed a fluffy pillow and buried his head underneath it. He'd heard that bass almost ten times in the past three hours…he was going to end up smashing his phone against the wall if it didn't stop. But he wasn't going to answer it…oh no, he definitely wasn't going to do that. He knew exactly who was calling.

After John had left, Randy had stumbled to his bed and somehow fallen asleep. All sorts of thoughts and questions had plagued his mind all night, causing him to toss and turn every hour. He certainly hadn't slept well; and he had god damn Cena to thank for it. What had been going through John's mind when he…when he kissed Randy? Did he plan it, or…did it just come out of nowhere? God, Randy was so tired of churning those questions in his mind. But the biggest question was the one that had bothered him the most: why did John leave after kissing him? Did he regret it? Or…or did he not like it? Those bad thoughts had been circulating in Randy's brain for hours now, and he was finding that with each passing minute he was growing angrier and angrier. Who the fuck did John think he was? Did he really fucking think it'd be ok to run off after something like that? Did he think he could string Randy Orton along? Well, Randy thought, breathing in the laundry-scented smell of his pillow, John had another thing coming if he thought Randy Orton was going to stand for that.

Then—just as quickly as it started—Randy's phone suddenly went dead silent. Another missed call. Part of Randy wanted so bad to pick up the phone and demand that John answer his questions, but another part of him—and he'd never admit it—was scared to hear the answers. Either way, Randy had decided after call number four that no answer was better than an answer he didn't want to hear. Or at least, that's what he thought…now he was beginning to think that if he heard Metallica one more time he'd probably jump out the hotel window just to escape from it.

Rolling back onto his back, Randy cast the pillow to the side, his pale eyes staring up at the ceiling. He had a throbbing headache, no doubt the consequence of have a few too many drinks. His side was sore, very tender to the touch, but to his surprise it didn't seem to hurt as much as he expected it to. It still stung when he inhaled deeply, but other then that he had found the pain to be pretty manageable. His eyes glaring up at a white ceiling, Randy couldn't help but wonder if John had only been paying him all this attention because Barrett had put him up to it. Technically Cena was a member of the Nexus…how did Randy know that the kiss—and everything else, actually—wasn't just some elaborate scheme to get Randy distracted at Bragging Rights? Well, it was working all right. Randy couldn't get his mind of John, couldn't seem to focus on anything else, and that really pissed him off. He had a championship match Sunday, he couldn't afford to be worried about some guy…even if that guy was John Cena. Sighing quietly, Randy closed his eyes. Shifting slightly, he could feel the soft caress of the sheets on his bare back, could feel the waistline of his pants dipping low, revealing the V cut in his hips. He was tired still, tired of every damn thing that seemed to be going wrong for him lately. All he wanted was some peace and quiet, some time where he could just lay still and not think so hard for once…

Three loud knocks rand out suddenly as someone banged on Randy's door, scaring the shit out of him and making him jump in place. Randy clenched his eyes shut and groaned loudly as the knocking persisted.

"Go away!" He yelled, sitting up and glaring at the door with animosity.

The knocks continued, causing the door to shake violently in its frame.

"Oh for fuck's sake!" Randy swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood up slowly, wincing as pain splintered through his ribcage. Taking careful, slow steps, he made his way to the door, feet shuffling silently against the carpet. He knew it was noon, but after all that had happened all he wanted to do was lay in bed and not think about anything. Finally stopping in front of the door, stopped for a moment, looking down and considering himself. After some consideration, he pulled his pants a little lower, making sure the indents at his hips were showing nicely. Reaching forward, he placed a hand on the door handle, pulling it open slowly.

John Cena stood before him, wearing a white shirt and some faded jeans. His blue eyes brightened as soon as he made eye contact with the Legend Killer.

Cena smiled finally, "Ran—"

Randy growled and made to slam the door in his face, but John caught it with his forearm, grunting with effort as Randy tried to shove the door shut.

"Wait! Please Randy!" John huffed, pushing against the door, his eyes wide and pleading, "Just let me talk to you! Come on, five minutes, that's all I'm asking!"

"Why the hell should I give you five minutes?" Randy hissed, his eyes narrowing as he glared at John, "Go away!"

"Just five minutes Randy, that's it, and if you still want me to, I'll leave you alone!" John continued, completely disregarding Orton's angry words.

Randy went still then, staring hard at Cena, his eyes flashing with suspicion. He had no real reason to trust John, but he also had no real reason not to either. Taking a deep breath, Randy took a small step back, the inked muscles flexing in his arm as he held open the door.

"You promise you'll leave if I want you to?" Randy asked quietly, still staring at John.

"Yes Randy." John held his hands up, palms out in a peaceful gesture, "When I'm done, if you still want me to, I'll leave, ok?"

"Fine." Randy scowled, taking another step backwards, "But you get five minutes and that's it."

He stood to the side, and John took this as an invitation to walk into the room. Cena walked right past Randy before turning around and folding his arms across his massive chest, a small, handsome frown crossing his face. Randy tilted his jaw up defiantly as he shut the door. After that he stepped away, glaring at John with hostility as he placed his hands on his hips, tight six-pack on full display.

John stared at him for a moment, his eyes a bit lower then they should've been.

"Well?" Randy snorted, "You going to say something?"

"I…uh, I'm sorry." John replied slowly, his eyes moving upwards to meet Randy's. And he actually sounded like he meant it…

"Sorry for what?" Orton growled, still scowling meanly as he held John's gaze.

"Sorry for yesterday." Cena continued quietly, unfolding his arms so that they were hanging at his side.

"If that's all you're here to tell me, then you can go ahead and get the hell out of here." Randy snarled, pointing a finger at John, "I've got a damn championship match this weekend, and I don't need anyone—_especially_ you—trying to distract me from it."

"Look, I'm not trying to distract you or anything!" John said quickly, looking at Randy with desperate eyes, "I didn't mean to—look, I don't know what I was thinking, ok? I just…I guess I wasn't thinking."

"Save it, Cena." Randy muttered darkly, his scowl deepening even more, "I don't want to fucking hear it. Just get the hell out of here…go running back to Barrett for all I care."

"Randy, I just—" John began with a heavy sigh, rubbing his eyes tiredly.

"I said save it!" Orton spat, reaching up and jabbing a finger into John's chest, "_You're_ the one who's been sucking Nexus dick lately! Do me a fucking favor and go back to doing that so you can leave me alone!"

"Don't poke me." John growled lowly, his own lips dipping into a threatening scowl.

"Are you supposed to scare me, Cena?" Randy smirked suddenly, his voice taking a taunting tone as he jabbed Cena again in the chest, "Sorry, Cena, but after watching you grovel to fucking Wade Barrett, you're just not that threatening anymore."

"I said don't poke me." John hissed, his hands clenching into fists as his eyes darkened considerably.

"What're you going to do, Cena?" Randy leaned in close to John as he laughed, a throaty, hollow sound devoid of any happiness, "You going to go fucking crying to Wade Barrett if I don't stop?"

This time when Randy raised his hand to jab John in the chest, it didn't go quite as planned.

* * *

John Cena didn't know why he was trying to apologize to Randy Orton, didn't know why he was wasting his time with someone who was so very good as pissing him off. All he knew was that with each poke in the chest, he could feel his rage and frustration building up inside his gut. And then finally…it boiled over. Letting out an animalistic growl, John reached out as Randy pulled his hand up to jab him in the chest. Before Randy could have time to react, Cena wrapped his hand around Randy's tattooed wrist and swung him around to the side. Because he was caught by surprise, Randy swung around rather easily, an infuriated, astounded look on his handsome face as John placed two hands on his bare chest, shoving him forward and against white drywall. Randy let out a cry of pain as his back connected with the wall, and it was then that John reached up, his hands pressing on Orton's shoulders. Holding the younger man still, John leaned forward and shoved his mouth against Randy's, his lips practically crushing against Randy's mouth.

The younger man squirmed under his hold, but he parted his lips, allowing John to thrust his tongue forward. Cena didn't know what had come over him, all he knew was that he could feel Randy's tight body straining against him, his hot mouth pressing against John's with more intensity then Cena thought could ever be held in something as innocent as a kiss. Dropping his hands from Randy's shoulders, he gripped him by the hips, fingernails digging into the bare skin, loving the feel of Orton's warmth on his fingertips. Randy let out a soft moan as he felt John's hands grabbing him so tightly, and it was then that John deepened the kiss, biting gently on Randy's bottom lip, pushing his tongue into his mouth. Randy reached down then, placing his own hands on John's hips, and he pulled the older man against him, pressing their hips together ferociously. Cena had to bite his tongue to keep from groaning as he felt Randy's groin rubbing up against him; his jeans had grown tight on him over the past few minutes, and it got even worse as Randy rubbed on him sultrily. .

And then Randy suddenly pulled his hands up, shoving John hard in the chest. Cena stumbled backwards a few steps, looking both surprised and confused at Randy's sudden aggression. He didn't stop there, though. Randy walked forward and reached up, gripping a fistful of John's white tee and yanking him forward. Cena couldn't help but smile as Randy crushed his lips against John's mouth, his teeth working at his lips, pulling and biting where he could. Well, John thought with a smirk, placing his hands on Randy's waist and yanking him closer, it seemed Orton liked to play rough. John could certainly give him what he wanted…

John tightened his hold on Randy's hips, gripping him so hard that Randy actually gasped in pain, pulling out of the kiss and looking at John with a mixture of lust and suspicion clouding his pale eyes. John smirked arrogantly before spinning Randy around, the bulging muscles in his arms flexing as he threw Randy onto the bed. The Viper landed on his back, a snarl escaping his lips as he tried to sit up. Cena was on him before he had a chance, though, climbing onto the bed on all fours, his muscular body quickly making his way on top of Randy. Orton struggled beneath him, his tan body writhing sexily on the bed sheets. It didn't make a difference though as John grabbed him by both wrists, pinning Randy's arms above his head. The Legend Killer didn't like being dominated so easily; he let out a growl of displeasure, fighting against John, but Cena's hold was too strong. Randy eventually stopped struggling, choosing instead to glare up at Cena, his frosty eyes full of defiance.

"Why does everything with you have to be so…_violent_?" John asked, tilting his head to the side as he looked down at the half naked man beneath him.

"You like it." Randy replied arrogantly, looking up at John as his lips twisted into a seductive smirk.

"Yeah," John conceded with a small nod, "I think I do."

He leaned forward then, once again pressing his lips against Randy's. Orton responded to the kiss immediately, pushing his tongue forward to explore John's mouth, practically purring with pleasure as Cena move his lips against his own mouth. The sound of Randy almost whimpering as they made out was making the heat rush between John's legs. With each passing second he spent sucking on Randy's lips he could feel his own cock growing harder and harder, desperate for some attention from the gorgeous Viper. He hesitated though, hovering above Randy, not wanting to lower himself for fear that he would be pushing the younger man farther then he wanted to go. Those fears were quickly repelled though when Randy moaned into the kiss and bucked his hips upward, his groin just barely grazing the jean fabric between John's legs. That was enough of an invitation for Cena. He lowered his body down, his bulky frame practically smothering Randy's own leaner body. Orton let out an involuntary gasp as John pushed his hips forward, the hardness in his jeans pressing between Randy's legs. Orton bucked his hips up in response, pushing his groin against John's hard on, his bare abdomen rubbing up against John's white t-shirt. Cena groaned at that, shoving his hips forward so that his hard dick was stabbing against Randy's inner thigh. And then John pushed forward more, and Randy whined slightly as John's cock brushed up against his own, sending waves of pleasure through both of them.

John's lips slowly moved away from Randy's mouth, kissing him along the jaw, and then down his neck. Suddenly he bit down roughly, his teeth scraping at the warm flesh between Randy's collar bone and his neck. Orton moaned loudly at that, tilting his head backward and closing his eyes in ecstasy as John began sucking on his neck, his tongue at work on Randy's sensitive skin. John thrust against him again as he sucked, his painfully hard cock straining against his jeans as he rubbed his groin between Randy's legs.

"W-why are you doing this?" Randy hissed, raising his hips to meet another one of John's thrusts, ending his question with a low whine as his own cock slid against John's hard on.

"Can't help it." John said quietly, his lips moving across Randy's throat, "Just something about you…can't keep my hands off."

It was then that Randy suddenly felt a vibration radiating from John's pants pocket. Cena pulled away from Randy slowly, his lips pursed in a confused frown. Sitting up slightly, he reached into his pocket to pull out a silvery phone. He didn't look at it though, instead choosing to stare at Randy with his piercing blue eyes, the phone vibrating loudly in his hand.

"I could let it go to voicemail…" John said slowly, his free hand resting on Randy's hip bone.

"You should answer it." Orton shrugged, frowning nonetheless.

What John really wanted to do was throw the phone out the window and go back to sexually assaulting Randy…but he decided against it. He had all damn day to play with Randy, and the person calling might be important. Pressing the green call button, he raised his phone up to his ear, eyebrows knotted in concentration.

"Yeah?" Cena answered slowly, and then his eyes widened, "Barrett? What is it? What do you need?"

Randy scowled angrily, hatred filling his cerulean eyes.

"Where am I? Well…uh…" John's eyes darted back and forth as he tried to come up with a believable answer, "I'm just relaxing in my room. Not really doing much. You…you want to see me? Well…uh, I…yeah, I guess I could meet you in the hotel lobby. Sure, whatever. Fine."

He hung up the phone, lowering his hand down to his side, looking down at Randy with a mixture of longing and apology.

"Guess you should get going." Randy muttered, looking up at Cena with irritation.

"When can I see you again?" John asked quietly.

"I think we should wait until after Bragging Rights." Randy grumbled, dropping his eyes from John's gaze.

"Why?" There was a mixture of suspicion and unhappiness in John's question. His hand was still on Randy's hip, fingers rubbing against the warm skin.

"Barrett might get suspicious…and like I said, I don't need any distractions." Orton said as he shrugged, still avoiding John's eyes.

"Ok." John answered slowly, sitting up, "That's understandable. But after Bragging Rights I want to see you again."

"Yeah…ok." Randy nodded, looking up finally to meet John's stare.

"I'll see you Sunday." John said sadly as he stood up and off the bed, smoothing out his jeans.

"Sunday." Randy replied quietly, his eyes boring into John's back as he watched Cena walk out the door.

* * *

Wade Barrett was standing in front of room 213…John Cena's room. The room he had told Barrett that he was currently in…which he most certainly was not. Barrett had banged on the door for a solid ten minutes before finally deciding to call his involuntary teammate. And John had lied to him, telling him he was in his room when Wade was completely confident he was not. So why had John lied to him? Barrett had stood in front of John's door for the past two or three minutes, pondering this question. Eventually he came to the conclusion that the only reason John would lie to him was because he was somewhere he knew Barrett wouldn't want him to be… And where could that be? Considering what he had seen Monday night, considering John's request about the championship match this Sunday…Wade had a pretty good idea where John Cena was, and what he was doing. Or rather, _who_ he was doing.

Lips curling into a dark grin, Wade finally turned and strode away from John's door.

He had originally thought the key to breaking John Cena was to destroy his career, but now…

Now he was certain the key to destroying Cena lay in Randy Orton.


	6. Bragging Rights

"Cena? Cena—are you listening?"

John's head jerked up as the sound of Wade Barrett's thickly accented drawl echoed in his ears. He was sitting on a metal bench in the Nexus locker room, elbows on his knees and his chin resting on the palm of his left hand. Otunga and Slater had left some time ago for something or another, and Justin Gabriel was leaning against a cement wall, his arms folded across his chest, mouth curled in a distasteful sneer. Wade Barrett was standing in front of John, his dark eyes looking down at the Champ with a mixture of impatience and mistrust. He was dressed in his ring gear: Nexus t-shirt and black wrestling trunks. Wade's brown hair was slicked down as usual, and he held a determined frown on his face. John, too, was dressed and ready to go: he was wearing his usual purple and yellow getup, and—at Wade's command—he bore a Nexus armband on his left arm, the black band barely able to stretch wide enough to encircle John's lower bicep.

It was Sunday—Bragging Rights. The rest of the week had seemed to crawl by after John's…_encounter_ with Randy Orton. By Friday he was dying to pick up his cell phone and dial the Viper, but in the end he decided against it. Randy wasn't the type to trust easily; if John ever hoped to get to know Randy better, he'd have to earn his trust…and John eventually came to the conclusion that the best way to begin to do that would be to honor Randy's request about not seeing him before Bragging Rights. He didn't blame Randy for wanting it that way; if their roles were reversed, Cena wouldn't want another man—especially a man who was supposed to be against him—distracting him from his championship match. Still, staying away from Orton had proved to be much more difficult then John would've thought. By Saturday night he was practically going mad with indecision: he wanted so badly to push this…thing…with Randy Orton farther, but how could he possibly do that when Barrett was expecting him to make Randy lose his championship? Randy would hate John if he caused him to lose his title…that much John knew for certain. And he didn't know if he could deal with that…like it or not, he'd definitely grown an intense interest in Randy Orton. He just couldn't get the gorgeous Legend Killer off his mind…

"Sorry." John looked up apologetically at his so-called leader.

"You better get your mind out of the gutter," Wade hissed, pointing a finger a John, "My match is the most important match of the night, and you need to be on your game Cena."

"Right, right." John rolled his eyes, scowling unhappily, "You know, if I were you, I'd be more worried about Randy Orton RKO'ing your face off then about me doing my job."

"You say that like you think Orton actually has a chance of winning." Justin snorted from over by the wall, reaching up and sliding a dark hand through his black hair.

"If you don't think Randy's a real threat, then you're a damn idiot." Cena snapped, glaring over at the younger man, "He's strong and smart, and not to mention he's got more experience then everyone on the Nexus combined."

"Careful Cena," Gabriel smirked, pursing his lips as he looked at John, "Keep talking like that and some people are going to think you have a _thing_ for Orton."

John turned a bright red at that, his sapphire eyes glowering in rage as he clenched his jaw shut, the muscles in his cheeks bulging as he tried to control his temper. God, the last thing he needed right now was for Wade Barrett—or anyone on the Nexus, for that matter—to figure out that he had taken a liking to Randy. If Barrett knew…well, John had no doubt that Wade would figure out some way to use that to his advantage. Damn, crushing on Randy Orton was like painting a target on his back…no, he'd have to do his best to make sure the Nexus had no idea that he and Randy had practically fucked with clothes on a few days ago. And he'd have to try even harder to make sure Wade didn't discover his newfound infatuation with the WWE Champion…fucking and making out was one thing, it'd be even worse for Randy if Wade discovered John actually _liked_ him. Not that he and Randy had fucked…yet. Judging from the way Randy had moaned and whined when John was on top of him…well, it was a safe bet that sex wasn't too much further down the road… Ever since their hot makeout session, John had found himself daydreaming about Randy underneath him, squirming, writhing in pleasure…or Randy on his hands and knees, backing up against him…or Randy kneeling in front of him, his mouth wrapping around John's… Fuck. This was _not_ what John needed on his mind before the championship match. Now he was going to be standing around the ring, watching a nearly-naked Randy Orton, picturing the champion screaming John's name while they fucked… Damn it! John shook his head, trying to rid himself of those dirty thoughts.

"You sure you're going to be able to handle this, Cena?" Barrett muttered, glaring at John as if he knew exactly what was going through his mind.

"Look, you do your job and I'll do mine." John said with a shrug, standing up as he did so.

"Fine. Let's go then, the fans are waiting." Barrett spoke with a dark grin, turning and heading towards the door.

John Cena reluctantly followed behind, the turmoil building inside of him with every step he took.

"Good luck." Gabriel snickered behind John's back, his brown eyes following them as the disappeared behind the locker room door.

* * *

Slowly but surely, John had gotten used to the booing. The stadium came to life when he and Wade Barrett walked down the ramp; the jeers from the crowd were loud enough to make John's ears vibrate. He made sure to frown unhappily the entire time he and Barrett marched down the ramp, hoping that his fans would see that he was not at all happy with his current predicament. He'd been hearing conspiracy theories from the fans: some thought he would eventually reveal he was happy to be a part of the Nexus, some thought he was secretly using his newfound team to seek revenge upon Randy Orton, and there was even a large group that thought he was actually the mastermind behind the Nexus. All of it was bullshit of course, and John wanted his true fans to realize that. The music boomed above his ears as he and Barrett strolled down the ramp, Barrett slightly in the front, smiling despite the thunderous amounts of screaming boos they were getting. John was trailing after him half heartedly, his hands already clenched into tight fists. Hundreds of flashing lights signaled people taking pictures, and to a newbie it—along with the deafening music—could be pretty disorienting. But John was used to it, and he didn't even blink when he and Barrett gripped the ropes and climbed up in the ring.

John strode to the center of the ring, gripping the purple fabric of his tee. Pulling the shirt over his head, he expertly tossed it into the crowd, causing some shrieking cheers to pierce all the booing. Barrett rolled his eyes when John did that, and then he too took his shirt off, though his motions weren't met with near the enthusiasm as John's. Taking his hat off, Cena then cast that into the crowd as well, and then he placed his hands on his hips, his ocean-hued eyes focusing up on the ramp. Barrett crossed his arms over his chest, and then his own darker eyes were staring at the same place as John's. Despite their obvious differences, both wore tight, concentrating frowns as they gazed up at the ramp. Staring up ahead, John couldn't help but feel his pulse quicken as he waited. Hell, he still didn't know what the fuck he was going to do…all he knew was that his decisions tonight would very likely determine how his budding relationship with Randy would turn out. And he really, really didn't want to screw that up.

The familiar 'Voices' song suddenly thundered through the air, and then the entire stadium seemed to shake as people stood up, screaming and cheering as loudly as they could for the WWE Champion. John could feel his breath catch in his throat when Randy finally stepped out. Orton took slow, calculated steps, taking his time as he made his way down the ramp, his muscles flexing threateningly as held the gleaming championship belt over his shoulder. As Randy drew nearer John could see that the bruises from both the attacks had faded quite a bit…though, that was really the only good thing John could say. Other than that, Randy looked downright exhausted. He had shadowy bags under his eyes, and his normally bright blue eyes had taken a pale, diluted tone. Randy was scowling deeply, but his eyes weren't looking at Wade Barrett…no, they were targeting John. Orton was staring at him with such a fiery intensity it was a wonder Cena didn't burst into flames right there in the middle of the ring. Well, John thought as Randy grabbed the ropes and climbed into the ring, it seemed he hadn't been the only one affected by their separation.

The ref stepped forward finally, taking Randy's belt and holding it high in the air for all to see. As he stepped away, placing the belt outside of the ring, John slid between the ropes, placing himself just on the outside of Barrett's corner. All the while he still felt Randy's heated gaze on him. Barrett, on the other hand, was staring at Randy with such hatred it was a bit unnerving.

And then the bell rang.

Randy and Wade circled each other, like two wolves ready to fight for dominance. Wade struck first, lunging forward and attempting to punch Randy in the gut. John bit his bottom lip as Barrett made the attack, but to his relief Randy dodged it and countered with a kick to the gut. Everything after that happened quickly: punches and kicks were exchanged, slams and submissions were given here and there, and right when one began to have an advantage over the other, the tides would turn. Randy managed to scoop slam Barrett three times, and every time John found himself smirking in satisfaction as Barrett's body smacked against the floor, the entire ring shaking from the force of it. Wade caught Randy with a particularly nasty clothesline, though, sending the Viper straight to the floor. John had cringed at that, thinking for sure that Randy wouldn't be standing up after that one. But as chants of R-K-O rang out, Randy managed to scramble to his feet and dodge an elbow that Barrett was trying to drop on his head. Orton then retaliated by performing a stunning dropkick, nailing Barrett right in the teeth and causing the slightly taller man to crash to the ground. John had cheered openly at that, clapping his hands loudly. He had always thought that Randy executed the best looking dropkicks in the business…and that was why it didn't surprise John that it was the dropkick that ended up making all the difference.

Barrett didn't stand up after the dropkick. He remained on the ground, his body wriggling in pain as he clutched his jaw. Cena's heart pounded against his chest as Randy began doing his infamous Orton stomp: he rained down kick after kick after kick on Barrett, not even stopping when Barrett tried to roll away. After a few minutes, he finally stopped, backing up a few feet, staring at the downed man with pure rage in his eyes.

And then he fell to the ground, pounding the ring floor with his fists, baring his teeth like an angry lion. The crowd went wild as Randy did his predatory dance, smacking the floor and growling out with total hostility. John started pacing then, reaching up and running a hand through his bristly, short hair. What should he do? Randy was about to take Barrett out…he was about to finish the match, there was no doubt about it. Staring at the infuriated Orton, John could feel his indecision settling in his gut, ripping at his stomach. Help Wade Barrett and ruin his future with Randy…or help Randy and risk getting fired by Barrett? Fuck, there was no good choice, no middle ground for him to take. Help Randy or help Wade…help Randy or help Wade… John continued pacing, chewing on his bottom lip, listening to the screaming crowd. What the hell was he supposed to do? Risk his career? Risk Randy? Do nothing? God damn it he had no idea what choice was the right choice… The crowd began chanting Randy's name, and finally he stood up, bent at the knee, ready to RKO Wade Barrett into next week.

The Viper charged forward, ready to strike, when suddenly he found himself face to face with John Cena. The booing was louder than ever as John bolted into the ring and physically placed his body between Randy and Wade. Barrett groaned on the floor, still holding onto his injured face. Randy, on the other hand, was standing at his full height, his eyes full of disbelief and blue fire.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Randy roared, his voice barely discernable over the shouting crowd.

"You know I can't let you do that." John yelled back, meeting Randy's enraged glare, "You know if I let you win I'll get fired! You know I don't have a choice!" He was standing maybe three feet away from Randy…just far enough where he'd have good warning if Randy decided to attack. Just far enough to see the hate fill Randy's eyes.

"No choice? No choice?" Randy snarled, pointing an angry finger at John, "Don't tell me there's no fucking choice! There's always a fucking—"

Suddenly there was a flash of color, and Randy was sent sprawling backwards, a cry of pain escaping past his lips. Wade Barrett had leapt from the ground and speared him right in the gut, sending Randy flat on his back. The crowd booed hysterically as Barrett stood back up, a cocky smirk on his face as he looked down at Randy. Orton was lying on the ground, writhing back and forth, his arms clutched around his stomach, his eyes clenched shut in pure pain. Cena was staring down at him in shock, completely surprised by the sudden attack. Neither he nor Randy had even seen it coming…

"What the hell are you doing?" John screamed at Wade, his eyes still wide.

"What did you expect, Cena?" Wade grinned, taking a step towards John, "This is a championship match…a match that I intend on winning."

"You said you wouldn't hurt him!" John spat, reaching out and placing his hands on Wade's chest. Letting out a growl of frustration, he shoved the leader of the Nexus hard. Wade stumbled backwards, nearly losing his footing, but he managed to catch himself on the ropes. It was then that, out of the corner of his eye, John saw Randy roll out of the ring, landing on the floor clumsily, still holding onto his injured side.

"What the bloody hell are you doing Cena?" Barrett snapped as he straightened himself back up, "Might I remind you that you can be fired at any moment if you disobey me?"

"You said he wouldn't get hurt!" John repeated furiously, "You promised me!"

"Well, I don't know if you realize this Cena," Wade snorted arrogantly, "But I don't have to keep my promises. I can do what I very damn well please…because unlike you, I wasn't ordered to work for someone!"

"You lying piece of shit!" John howled angrily, so mad with Barrett right now he feared he was about to strangle the man, "I swear to god when this bullshit is over I'm going to—"

The crowd suddenly exploded, screaming and jeering at the top of their lungs, causing both Wade and John to turn around.

The rest of the Nexus was storming down the ramp.

Otunga and Gabriel reached Randy Orton first. They began hitting him, punching and kicking with as much power as they possibly could. Then Slater's ginger ass made it to the party, and he dropped an elbow directly on Randy's stomach, earning a moan of pain from the Legend Killer. John turned and gave one quick look at Barrett—who was smiling evilly, his lips curled in a nasty grin—before storming towards the group. The rest of the Nexus hadn't heard the exchange between John and Wade, so they were caught by surprise when John suddenly jumped over the ropes and into their group. He grabbed Otunga first, throwing him against the ring, allowing himself a small grin of satisfaction as he heard David's back slam into the ring wall. Slater backed off then, holding up his hands defensively, but that didn't stop John. He shoved Heath in the chest just like he did Barrett, only this time he managed to knock the redhead off his feet. Gabriel lunged at him, and he managed to punch John in the stomach. It was a glancing blow, though, and Cena shrugged it off pretty quickly. He grabbed Gabriel by the wrist, and then the crowd turned insane as he lifted Justin into the air and slammed him onto the ground—executing a picture-perfect Attitude Adjustment. Gabriel screamed in pain at that, and—fortunately for him—he did not get back up.

Then John finally turned towards Randy.

Orton was lying on the ground—looking barely conscious. His eyes fluttered open, and then those pale icy eyes of his were staring up at John, begging him, pleading with him for help. John felt like someone had swung an iron bat against his chest when Randy looked up at him like that. Bending over, he gently helped Randy to his feet, earning ear-splitting screams from the fans. Orton whimpered in pain as he tried to step forward, and John slowly began walking him up the ramp, one limping step at a time. The cries of the crowd were so loud Cena barely heard the words of the ring announcer as he declared the match a disqualification, but he most certainly heard Wade Barrett screaming like a madman. He was screaming at John to leave Randy, screaming at him to return to the ring, but John didn't care.

As he helped Randy up the ramp, he only cared about getting the younger man back to his locker room.

Fuck Wade Barrett…fuck the Nexus…fuck the pay-per-view.

"I'm sorry." Cena whispered in Randy's ear as they reached the top of the ramp.

"Yeah," Randy slurred, his words stringing together, "I thought you'd say that."

Everyone in the stadium heard Wade Barrett's howl of fury as John Cena and Randy Orton disappeared from view.

* * *

**Sorry this took me so long to update. The next couple chapters will come much faster, I promise. As always, thanks to everyone who's been reviewing, and please keep it up! Your reviews are really what keep this story going!**

**EDIT: I've posted a poll on my profile. If you could take the time to go check it out, I'd appreciate it. **


	7. Hot Water

It took John and Randy nearly ten minutes just to make it from the ramp to Randy's locker room. Cena was helping Randy like he was made of glass: careful and patient. Eventually though, they did get there, and Cena carefully steered the younger man in. It was a simple locker room, with a bench on one side and a bathroom on the other. Cheap tile floor was beneath their feet, and the walls were a bland off-white color that did little to add to the room. Randy's black gym bag was on the floor next to the bench, neatly zipped up. Turning to the side, John carefully led Randy over to the wooden bench, limping along gingerly. Lifting Randy's arm from around his shoulders, he gently eased him down onto the bench. Randy let out a small groan of pain as he sat down, baring his teeth in agony as he hunched over, clutching at his side. They were both still in their ring gear, with Randy barely even clothed and John wearing nothing but his shoes and his shorts. Letting go of Orton, John took a step back, his eyes staring down at Randy with guilt and anger.

He couldn't believe he had allowed this to happen.

John turned around then and headed towards the bathroom. Like he expected, there was a large, walk in shower. Opening the glass door, John reached an arm in and quickly turned the shower knob as far to the left as it would go. Water spurted from the shower head immediately, and Cena nodded in satisfaction as heavy steam began to fill the room. Stepping back out of the shower, he turned and walked back into the main locker room. Randy was still sitting on the bench, his pale eyes glued to the floor, a tiny frown on his handsome face. John hesitated for a moment, looking down at the man sitting before him. He really didn't know what to say…once again he'd caused the Nexus to attack Randy. Once again he had directly caused Randy Orton pain. Damn it…he should've never trusted Barrett. Was he really that fucking stupid? Shit…he had been so busy daydreaming about sleeping with Randy he hadn't even noticed the warning signs. Barrett was an animal; he could never be trusted. Bragging Rights had made that pretty obvious…well, if Barrett thought he could get away with this, he had another thing coming.

"Come on." Cena said quietly, causing Randy to raise his head and look at him, "Let's get you in the shower."

"The shower?" Randy cocked his head to the side, looking up at John with confusion. He was still knocked around a bit from the fight, and his words continued to slur together.

"Hot water." John answered evenly, jerking his thumb over his shoulder towards the bathroom, "It'll make you feel a lot better."

"You going to shower with me?" Randy gave a crooked smirk, his eyes hazy, "That'll make me feel a lot better."

"You're hurting too much for _that_, aren't you?" John couldn't help but smile. He didn't know why Randy wasn't biting his head off for almost costing him the match…maybe because, in the end, he still had the championship. Maybe that was putting him in a good mood.

"Yeah I guess so." Randy mumbled as he bent over and began pulling off his shoes and knee pads. John did the same, reaching down and quickly taking off his sneakers and socks. Randy then shakily stood up, wincing in pain as he placed his hands around the waist of his wrestling trunks, ready to pull them down.

"Uh…Randy?" John raised an eyebrow, "I think it'd be a good idea if you didn't get completely naked."

"Why? Afraid you might get too distracted?" Orton's smirk grew wider as he spoke, his voice still light and teasing. He placed his hands on his hips then, leaning forward and looking John in the eye.

"Yeah…" Cena said slowly, "Now's not really the best time for that, is it?"

John pulled his own shorts off then, and suddenly he was standing before Randy in nothing but black boxer briefs, the fabric clinging to his toned legs nicely. Randy made no effort to hide his gawking as his eyes traveled all the way down John's body and then back up again. Cena had to bite his tongue to keep from grinning at that; it was nice to know that Orton found him good looking…for a while there, John had thought the physical attraction might just be one way. Judging from the lustful gleam in Randy's eye, though, it seemed John had been wrong.

"Can you help me get in?" Randy questioned quietly, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

"Do you even have to ask?" John mumbled. He offered his arm out, and Randy quickly placed his hand on John's forearm. The sudden skin on skin contact was jarring; Cena could feel Randy's warm fingertips sliding against his own skin, and even that brief, innocent contact was enough to set his nerves on fire.

They walked uneasily into the bathroom, John leading and Randy following slowly behind him. Steam was pouring from the shower, and the mirrors over the sinks had fogged up, obscuring any sort of reflection. John reached out and opened the door, causing even more thick steam to burst into the room. He stepped back, holding out his hand, indicating for Randy to walk in. Orton didn't need any more encouragement then that: he limped forward carefully, taking calculated steps across the wet, dark green tile of the shower floor. The practically boiling water hit his chest first, and he let out a hiss of pain, his entire body jerking from the sudden onslaught of hot water. He didn't retreat, though. Randy remained standing under the water, cringing as he took another step forward, the water cascading across his chest and stomach before falling down onto his legs. His wrestling trunks quickly darkened from the wetness; the stretchy fabric clinging to Randy's body tighter than ever.

"Is it too hot?" John asked, still standing at the entrance to the shower.

"No." Randy shook his head, closing his eyes as his shoulders relaxed, "Feels good."

"I told you it would." Cena said with a shrug, giving a small dimpled smile when he saw how much Randy really was enjoying the shower. The younger man had closed his eyes and stepped completely under the water. He tilted his head down, causing thin streams of water to spill across his face, tiny droplets complimenting his smooth skin. John couldn't help but stare as the steaming water slipped over Randy's back, highlighting the sculpted muscles of his shoulders and neck. Orton was a fine specimen, no doubt about that…but somehow the water falling on his body made him look positively _sensual_. Cena swallowed thickly as he watched Randy, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat. He couldn't help but remember that they were all alone…

Randy raised his head suddenly, looking lazily over his shoulder, "Are you going to get in?"

"You really want me to?" John asked, his pulse rate quickening.

"Come on, you know you want to." Orton smirked, turning around and facing John, causing his wet six-pack to be on full display. God, he was practically asking John to jump him right then and there.

"Are you mad at me?" John's voice was so quiet it was almost a whisper.

Randy looked at him hard, the smile dropping from his face, "What the hell do you think?"

"I can't tell." Cena said truthfully, holding out his hands palms up, "You should be. But you want me to get in the shower with you—"

"Why are you thinking so hard about it?" Randy growled, stepping out of the water slightly so that it was no longer falling across his face, "I'm standing in the shower, almost naked, asking you to get in with me…and you're worried about me being _mad_ at you?"

"So you _are_ mad at me." John frowned, his cute dimples disappearing.

"Of course. But I don't feel like being mad right now…I just want to stop thinking about the Nexus for once. I'm so fucking sick of thinking about them." Randy grumbled, looking down at the ground, scowling deeply.

"Yeah…ok." John replied gently, "I can help you with that."

John walked forward, shutting the glass shower door behind him. Randy backed up a step to give him more room as he stepped forward into the water. As soon as the steaming liquid hit his skin, John cringed, jerking slightly. It really was quite hot, but Randy seemed to like it, so he decided he'd just have to deal with it…even if it did feel like his skin was going to melt off. John turned then, facing Randy. The Legend Killer was looking at him with pale eyes, his expression much, much calmer then John was used to. The both went silent, looking into each other's eyes, warm water flowing across their almost naked bodies. Randy was staring at John like he would a dangerous animal: cautious, unsure of how to proceed. John, on the other hand, knew exactly what he wanted to do. Randy wanted to forget about the Nexus? Well, John would make sure that there was only one thing on Randy's mind…

Cena reached out, wrapping his fingers around Randy's wrist. Orton looked confused as John pulled him forward, his grip on Randy's arm tight and yet gentle at the same time. And then John leaned forward, pressing his mouth against Randy's. But this kiss was different; the others before had been fierce, fiery. This one was softer, quieter, and Randy went very still, almost like he was unsure of how to react to such a kiss. John continued to hold on to his wrist, tugging on it when he felt the younger man not responding. He tugged again, pulling Randy's wet body against his own, feeling his abdomen slide against Randy's hot, slippery stomach. Muscle on muscle, John had to suppress a moan as he and Randy's bodies slid against each other. The water made everything so much sexier; as if seeing Orton nearly-naked wasn't enough, he had to be nearly-naked and soaking wet. Randy finally relaxed, his muscles loosening, and then he was pushing his tongue forward, pressing it against John's lips. Cena easily opened his mouth, allowing Randy's tongue to wrestle with his own. While in the middle of their tongue war, John reached down and placed his free hand on Randy's hip, his nails digging into the skin. Randy let out a small whine at that, and then he was pushing his hips forward, and John saw stars as the growing tent in Randy's trunks brushed up against his own painfully hard groin. They both had thick hard ons jutting from between their legs, and it made John's knees go weak as they rubbed up against each other, their clothed cocks sliding back and forth. The sensation of Randy's dick rubbing against his own was something he could definitely get used to, John decided, smiling into the kiss, biting down gently on Randy's lower lip.

Suddenly, Randy let out a soft chuckle, his lips curling into a smile.

"What's so funny?" John asked as he pulled out from the kiss, letting go of Randy's wrist.

"Nothing." Orton smirked devilishly, "Just thinking about how pissed off Barrett would be if he knew what you were doing right now."

"I don't know Randy…" Cena gave a sly, dimpled grin, "I think he might be _jealous_."

"Jealous?" Randy wrinkled his face into a distasteful grimace, "Ew. Why would he be jealous?"

"He seems to be pretty obsessed with you lately." John shrugged, his grin widening as he saw the disgusted look on Randy's face, "I can't say that I blame him…"

"Really?" Orton smiled at that, a real, genuine smile. It was such a startling change from the dark smirks and evil grins John was used to. He had to admit though, Randy had a handsome smile. No, scratch that, he had a _gorgeous_ smile.

"Yeah…I can't seem to get you off my mind either." John said quietly, leaning forward, closing the gap between him and the younger man. This time Randy kissed him, pressing his mouth eagerly against John's. Cena couldn't help himself; he pushed Randy forward, shoving him against the shower wall. Randy let out a gasp of surprise as he felt the cold tile against his back, and John took that opportunity to force his tongue into Randy's mouth, his teeth scraping across Randy's soft lips. Orton must've liked that a lot, for he let out a loud, slutty moan before bucking his hips forward, his rock-hard dick pushing against John's own hard on. Cena liked that a lot, and he decided he wanted more of it. Reaching down, he placed a hand on Randy's bare thigh, sliding it underneath his leg, smirking as he felt the goosebumps on Randy's skin despite the heat of the water. He lifted Randy's leg up, wrapping it around his waist, using the wall to balance himself. Orton must've liked that idea, because he picked up his other leg on his own accord, wrapping it around John as well. The feeling of Randy's thighs circling his waist made the heat rush between John's legs, and then he was bucking his hips, thrusting his cock against Randy, placing his hands on Randy's tight ass, squeezing and tugging.

"Don't know what you've done to me…" John hissed as he pulled his mouth away from Randy's, "I can't stop thinking about you…"

"Mmm…" Randy moaned again, jerking his hips forward, thrusting against John's thick erection, "Sorry."

"Don't be." John growled, his teeth scraping across Randy's neck, down to his collar bone, "I like it."

The shower water still pounding against John's back, he moved his hands up to Randy's lower back, nails digging into the flesh. Brief concerns over hurting the younger man flashed through his mind, but then Randy wrapped his arms around John, and he was digging his own nails into John's back, and Cena had to bite his lip from crying out in pleasure. His dick was so hard now it was almost painful, and the stimulation of rubbing it against Randy's own cock wasn't enough anymore…he wanted more. He wanted to push Randy to the floor, strip him down and shove himself deep inside of him. God, he wanted him so bad… John bit down on Randy's collar bone, sucking on the warm skin. Orton whimpered in response, his hands pulling on John's back, pulling the older man against him so that they were thrusting into each other. Both started breathing heavily as they bucked against each other, John thrusting his hips, Randy thrusting right back, their cocks sliding across each other.

And then John stopped. He went still, pulling his mouth from Randy's neck.

"What's wrong?" Randy asked, his voice taking an edge as his blue eyes stared up at John.

"I just…" Cena sighed guiltily, "If we…if we don't stop, I'm going to want more."

"Why is that a problem?" Randy frowned. The hot water was still spilling across him, and the sensation of the heat combined with his legs wrapped around John's waist was making lust and desire flood his veins.

"Barrett's going to be looking for me." John scowled, anger flashing in his eyes, "I don't want to start something…and then be interrupted, if you know what I mean."

"Ok." Randy nodded in agreement. He leaned back, and the John released his legs, and Randy was standing on his own, staring at John.

"I should get going. He's probably throwing a fit…" Cena sighed in annoyance, looking at Randy with longing.

"You might want to calm down before you go out there." Randy said, looking down at the thick hard on that was between John's legs.

"Uh, yeah, right." Cena chuckled, "So…you should let me come by later."

"Tonight?" Randy asked, tilting his head to the side.

"Yeah. So we can finish this." John nodded. He was taking a chance, pretty much asking Randy if they could have sex later. But it was either that or get off by himself…after what he'd just done with Randy, there was no way he could go the rest of the night without some kind of relief.

"Yeah…I'd like that." Randy nodded again, "You should probably get going."

John smiled and then turned, heading towards the door to the shower. He then stopped suddenly, and then he turned around. Randy opened his mouth to ask what he was doing, but before he could John placed a light kiss on the corner of his mouth, barely brushing Randy's lips. Cena smiled as he pulled away, and then he turned and left, exiting the shower silently.


	8. Don't Fight It

Wade Barrett was furious. Absolutely fucking furious.

He was in the locker room sitting on a wooden bench, his elbows on his knees and his chin resting on one of his fists. The rest of the room was empty; after the match Wade had ordered his boys to grab their stuff and bail. They'd jumped at his requests. All of them were pretty beat up, and all of them were all too happy to get out of there—except maybe Gabriel. That little fuck had lingered, whining to Wade about one thing after another. Finally Barrett had snapped at him, screaming at him to get his head out of his arse and beat it. Justin had gotten all pouty at that, but he'd left nonetheless. Thank god. Barrett was in no mood to be dealing with any of his teammates at the moment. He was so god damn pissed he could barely function, let alone keep an eye on his ragtag group of idiots. They must've sensed it, for—with the exception of Gabriel—they'd all avoided him, hurrying to obey him and then getting the fuck out of his way. He'd punched a wall and a locker after the match, and now the knuckles on his left hand were swollen and purple. It didn't feel like he broke anything, but it still hurt quite a bit. The pain didn't matter though; with all the rage flowing through Wade's body, he could've punched a hundred more walls. He could've broken his hand to pieces and he wouldn't have cared, he was so fucking angry.

John Cena was a treacherous bastard. Not only had he stopped Barrett from finishing off Orton, but he'd even attacked the rest of his group! His own teammates! He chose Orton over them! Wade had gone mad trying to think of why John would do that—other then the fact that Cena was such a goody goody that he couldn't stand to see an 'innocent' man get hurt. No, that couldn't be the only reason…sure, John wad sickeningly honorable sometimes, but he and Randy had a _history_. There was no way he'd drop everything and sacrifice his career for someone like Randy Orton unless there was something else going on. Well, Barrett thought with a sneer, staring down at the tile floor beneath his feet, he was almost certain that something _was_ going on. In other words, Cena and Orton must be fucking. There was no other explanation; John's sudden concern for Randy's well being, him helping Randy up the ramp, Cena _still_ apparently with Randy… After some thinking and fuming, Wade came to the conclusion that John Cena had to be sticking it to Randy Orton.

Not that he blamed him.

Orton was incredibly good looking; if Barrett was in Cena's place, he wouldn't think twice about fucking Randy into oblivion. In fact, nobody would, really. Backstage, almost everyone agreed that Randy Orton was probably the best looking guy around. And, not only was he attractive, but Randy just seemed to exude sexuality. A lot of the superstars would agree that it was rather difficult not to think dirty thoughts when Randy was around, and Barrett was no exception. He was of course drawn to Orton because he currently had what Barrett wanted—the WWE Championship. But there was more to it than that…Randy had this confidence, this defiance that Wade thought would be absolutely delicious to crush. He'd thought about Randy underneath him, completely at his mercy...he thought about making the so-called apex predator bow before him…the idea of seeing Randy bend to his will was intoxicating to Wade. He enjoyed watching John Cena obey his orders, enjoyed destroying the man. If he could destroy him even further by crushing Randy Orton…well, that was just icing on the cake. Barrett couldn't help but smirk as he thought about how much it would anger John if he put his hands on Randy…

It probably wouldn't be all that hard to seduce Orton, Wade thought suddenly. And that would be a fantastic way to hurt Cena… Randy was a well known _slut_. Everyone knew he was fucking Hunter back when they were in Evolution together…and then he started fucking Dave Batista too. Most everyone agreed that was why Evolution dissolved; Hunter didn't like Randy seeing Dave—he thought Dave was bad for him—so he tried to push Randy away, tried to put some distance between Orton and Batista by forcing Randy out of Evolution once he won the title. That didn't work, of course. Randy hated Hunter for pushing him out of the stable, and he continued seeing Batista anyway. Eventually though, if what Wade heard was true, Batista started smacking Randy around. Orton somehow grew a spine after a while and left Dave…right around the time Rated-RKO got together. Then of course Orton and Adam Copeland were fucking, and that lasted for a long time. Nobody really knew why they broke up; some liked to guess that Randy's cheating ways ended the relationship, but nobody really knew the truth. After Adam came Ted and Cody, and that lasted for quite some time…but eventually, according to the rumors, Randy got tired of playing the third wheel in their relationship.

And now it seemed he was seeing John Cena.

Right on cue, the door to the locker room opened, and in stepped the Champ himself. He was wearing his ring gear—jean shorts and a purple and yellow shirt. Where John found the shirt, Wade didn't know, though he could make an educated guess. John walked in the room silently, his hands curling into fists and his eyes hardening like stone as soon as he saw Barrett. Wade stood up as John approached, his own hands also wrapping into fists—just in case Cena wasn't aware of just how angry he was.

"Cena." Wade growled, staring down at the shorter man.

"Barrett." John growled right back, scowling deeply.

"And where the hell have you been?" Wade sneered, placing his hands on his hips.

"None of your damn business." Cena replied quickly.

"Well, considering what happened tonight, I think it _is_ my business." Barrett snarled, pissed that John would dare take that tone of voice with him, "You interrupted my match, stopped me from finishing Orton when he was at his weakest, and then went on to attack your own teammates. Give me one good reason why I shouldn't fire you right this second, Cena."

"You were screwed from the moment your boys came out." John retorted, pointing a finger at Wade, "Did you really think the ref would let you get away with that? You may have the GM in your pocket, but the refs got balls, they don't let punks push them around…"

"You make a valid point, Cena." Wade replied, folding his arms across his wide chest, "Which is why I will not be firing you."

"You're…you're not going to fire me?" John narrowed his eyes suspiciously, unable to believe the words Barrett was saying. As soon as he wrapped an arm around Randy and started helping him limp up the ramp…he was sure his career was done with. Was Barrett…was he actually going _easy_ on John?

"Correct." Wade nodded, his lips spreading into a dark grin, "Let's just say…I enjoy having power over you, Cena. I like watching the so-called Champ jump at my command."

"This won't last forever." John spat, leaning forward threateningly, "Eventually I won't have to listen to you anymore…and when that happens, you're going to regret ever fucking with me."

"But until then, Cena, I'm going to enjoy breaking you down." Barrett smirked cruelly, staring down his nose at John, "And if you insist on defying me…well, you won't be the only one who suffers for it."

"What…what the hell are you trying to say?" John's eyes widened. His fingers twitched at his side, yearning to wrap around Wade's neck and strangle him.

"Don't pretend like you didn't understand me." Wade scoffed arrogantly, "You keep defying me and attacking my team, and I might have to retaliate by attacking someone important to you. It's your choice, John. Keep fighting me and someone _important_ to you might have to pay the consequences."

"You ever fucking touch _anyone_ I care about and I swear to god—" John was roaring like a lion at that point, the veins in his arms bulging as he angrily tensed up.

"Relax, Cena." Barrett's voice was completely calm despite the storm of a man standing in front of him, "If you want me to keep my hands off your…_companions_, then all you need to do is start obeying me. Now, why don't you get the hell out of here so I can go home?"

John didn't need any other encouragement; he turned and stomped out the door, slamming it loudly behind him as he stepped out.

Wade Barrett couldn't help but smile as he watched him go.

Pissing off Cena, as it turned out, was incredibly easy. All he had to do was insinuate he was going to hurt someone special—perhaps a certain Randy Orton. Well, Barrett thought as he stood up, grabbing his gym bag, if this was how John reacted to the mere thought of Wade hurting Randy…Wade couldn't wait to see how John reacted when it actually happened.

Oh yes, Barrett was going to have fun with Cena and Orton.

* * *

If John didn't know any better, he'd say that Barrett knew.

Cena was standing in the hotel elevator, wringing his hands together. Thankfully he was alone; he didn't think he could handle other people right now. Not after all that had happened. After his little discussion with Barrett, he'd quickly ran back to his own hotel room and changed clothes. Jeans and a white tee-shirt, his go-to outfit when he didn't want to spend too much time thinking about what he was going to wear. Not that it mattered anyway; judging from what had happened in the shower earlier it didn't seem like he and Randy would be spending too much time in their clothes. Cena couldn't help but feel giddy at the thought of going to Randy's room. Not that he would admit it to anyone, but it'd been quite a while since he'd gotten laid. John liked to think he was a good guy—but he was just that, a _guy_. He had needs…and they certainly hadn't been fulfilled in a long time. Too long. Maybe that was why he was so eager to get in Randy's pants back at the shower…normally he'd never push a relationship so quickly. But there was something about Orton; ever since their first kiss John hadn't been able to get him out of his head. All week he'd nearly gone mad with desire to see Randy…how he managed to keep his word and stay away until Bragging Rights, he had no idea. Apparently he had far more self-control then he thought. Now that the championship match was over, he could _finally_ reward himself…

The elevator let out a soft beep as it stopped on the fifth floor. John stepped out, walking slowly down the hall, his hands shoved deep in his jean pockets.

No matter how excited he was for tonight, he couldn't help but worry over what Wade had said earlier. He pretty much told John straight up that if he continued to disobey him people would start getting hurt—and right now the only person John gave two shits about was Randy. Was Wade serious about his threat? Did he know about Randy and John's relationship? Even though he had no proof, John had a nagging feeling that Barrett did know—and that he was going to do something about it. He sounded dead serious when he said other people would have to start paying the consequences… Could John really do that to Randy? Could he really put Orton at risk just because he wanted to fuck him senseless? God, John thought with a groan as he stopped in front of room 512, what the hell was he going to do? He practically started drooling every time he saw Randy…but he could never forgive himself if Wade attacked Randy just because John was seeing him. Randy had been hurt so much in the past week…could John really cause him more pain just because he wanted to listen to his dick instead of his brain? John stood in front of Randy's door, staring at the carpet beneath his feet, his hands deep in his pockets. If he knocked on the door…Randy would let him in. If he went in…the combination of Randy and a bed and a locked door would be too much. He'd never be able to resist the temptation…

But he couldn't just leave Randy hanging—right? He told Randy he would come by; it'd be rude and mean to stand him up. He'd just talk to him real quick, tell him Barrett knew too much, tell him it'd be too dangerous to keep seeing him…and then he'd turn around and leave. Right, John could do that, he just needed to scrounge up some of that self-control he'd had earlier in the week.

Raising his fist, John knocked on the door.

It opened quickly, and then Randy stepped out, and John felt like he'd been punched in the stomach.

Randy wasn't wearing any shirt. His tight abdominal muscles were flexing impressively as he revealed himself, and his heavily inked arms looked downright sexy. Orton's bicep bulged nicely as he held the door open, the skulls printed on his skin stretching with his arm. Randy's brown hair—which looked longer then it had been in over a year—was a spiky mess, sticking up in all different directions. His blue eyes had a lazy, half-lidded look, and he was wearing a tired smirk, like he'd just gotten roughed up in bed. To make matters even worse, he was wearing dark green sweat pants that hung low on his hips, revealing the chiseled V-cut in his lower abdomen. Smooth, tan skin looked all too touchable, and he was looking up at John expectantly, his icy eyes waiting for Cena to make the first move. But all John could do was stand there, his mind going fuzzy as he couldn't help but stare at Randy's jutting hip bones.

"Uh, John?" Randy cocked his head to the side, looking at John with curiosity.

"Huh?" Cena shook his head slightly, trying to remember what he was supposed to say. Something about Wade Barrett being too dangerous…

"You coming in?" Randy stood aside, holding his tattooed arm out, beckoning John to enter.

Don't do it, the voice in his head said, resist the temptation…try not to think about being alone in a dark room with Randy, the bed close by, nobody to interrupt… Damn it. Too late.

"Yeah, sure." John nodded, walking forward.

Randy shut the door behind him as John walked into the middle of his room. Cena stopped suddenly, staring at Randy's bed before turning around and looking hard at Randy himself. Orton made no effort to hide himself, his arms hanging at his side, his bare torso on full display for John's probing gaze.

"Uh, Randy, I don't know if—" John began, his voice stuttering and unsure.

"Did Barrett give you a hard time?" Randy asked, frowning, "He didn't fire you, did he?"

"No, he didn't." John sighed, "But see, the thing is, I don't think we should—"

"Damn, that's good, isn't it? Well, maybe not." Randy grinned apologetically, "That means you have to keep working under Barrett, right? That sucks."

"Uh, yeah, but Randy I really need to talk to you about something—could you put a damn shirt on or something?" John growled with exasperation. He was finding it incredibly hard to concentrate with Orton prancing around, showing of his stunning physique and bad-boy tattoos.

"Wouldn't that be counterproductive?" Randy smirked cockily, crossing his arms across his chest.

"Yeah, but…" John bit his bottom lip, "Here's the thing. I think…I think Barrett might know. About us."

"So?" Randy shrugged, his smirk dropping into a frown.

"He…he made it clear that he would hurt anyone close to me." Cena scowled, shaking his head, "I'm sorry, but I don't think we should—"

"Backing out?" Randy rolled his eyes, his frown turning into an angry scowl, "Whatever. Doesn't surprise me anyway."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" John demanded.

"Oh come on. We both know I'm not your type. You may want to fuck me, but it's not like you'd ever want anything more than that." Randy snorted.

"How the hell are you not my type? You don't even know what my type is." Cena snarled, feeling himself growing angry. How could Randy stand there and judge him like that? He had been trying to do the right thing…and Orton goes and gets mad…he looked sexy when he was mad…

"I'm not a nice guy. I fucking lie and cheat and do whatever it takes to win. You're the complete fucking opposite of that!" Randy snapped, glaring at John with his pale eyes.

"Maybe that's why I like you!" John snapped right back, his own eyes flashing, "Did you ever think of that Randy? Maybe I like you because you're so different from me—and so different from everyone else I've ever dated!"

"Whatever," Randy threw his hands up in the air dramatically, "If you don't want to fucking see me then just say so and leave me the fuck alone—"

"That's not it at all!" John snarled with disbelief, "I don't want Barrett hurting you, and if that means I have to stay away from you then fine! That's the way it had to be…_I'm_ not going to be the reason Barrett decides to attack you!"

"I don't need you to protect me, Cena!" Randy reached forward, placing his hands on John's chest and shoving him as hard as he could.

John stumbled backwards but somehow managed to catch himself before he fell. Then he reached out, wrapping a fist around the waist on Randy's pants. Orton gasped in surprise as Cena suddenly threw him to the bed. Randy landed on his back, propping himself up on his arms, his six-pack flexing as he sat up slightly, looking up at John with pure rage in his blue eyes. He looked sexy as hell like that: half-naked, glaring up at John angrily, his face flushed red.

"What're you going to do now, John?" Randy purred, still laying on the bed.

"I don't want to hurt you." Cena muttered quietly.

"Maybe I like it when you hurt me." Randy shrugged, still looking up at John.

There was so many things wrong with that statement, but John didn't want to think about that. Instead he bent down and crawled on top of Randy, forcing his mouth against Randy's lips.


	9. Johnny

"I don't want to hurt you." Cena muttered quietly.

"Maybe I like it when you hurt me." Randy shrugged, still looking up at John.

There was so many things wrong with that statement, but John didn't want to think about that. Instead he bent down and crawled on top of Randy, forcing his mouth against Randy's lips.

He wasn't gentle.

John let out a growl as his hands reached forward, wrapping around Randy's wrists. Shoving his tongue into the younger man's mouth, John pinned Randy's arms on either side of him, his fingers gripping Randy's wrists much harder than necessary. To his credit, Randy fought back. He writhed beneath John, tan, muscular body squirming back and forth, his tight stomach rubbing against Cena. As nice as it felt having Randy rub up against him, John decided that the struggling needed to stop. Moving his lips from Randy's mouth down to his collarbone, John bit down on the smooth skin, his tongue lapping at the bright red mark that the bite left behind. Randy moaned whorishly at that, tilting his head back and closing his eyes as John continued to suck on his collarbone. He didn't stop struggling though; Randy bucked his hips upward, and John saw stars as he felt Randy's hard on hit his thigh. Rolling his own hips forward, John thrust against Randy, causing the younger man to cry out when John's swollen cock pressed into his ass. He must've liked it, though, because the next time John bucked his hips forward Randy met him with a thrust of his own. Their hard cocks bumped into each other that time, and John let out a hiss of pleasure as he pushed his hips forward, rubbing his own hard dick against the tent in Randy's pants, loving the feeling. The whole time John's grip on Randy's wrists was tightening, his nails practically digging into the skin. Neither one seemed to notice though as John leaned forward and shoved his mouth once again against Randy's, his teeth biting down on Randy's lower lip.

"Take your pants off." John ordered as he pulled away from Randy's mouth, staring down at the Viper with a mix of rage and lust.

Randy smirked and—as John slowly released his grip on Randy's wrists—reached down, his fingers grabbing the waistline of his pants. Yanking the fabric down, Randy quickly pulled his pants off, his throbbing cock springing into view. John couldn't help but smirk down at Randy as he realized that his lover hadn't worn any underwear. To his surprise, Randy actually blushed a little, his face turning red under John's probing gaze. John didn't know why Orton would be embarrassed; he was stunning. Cut ab muscles, a tapered waist, thick thighs that were perfect to grab onto during sex… John leaned forward, his body almost smothering Randy's slightly smaller frame. Letting out an animalistic growl, Cena pressed his lips against Randy's throat, drawing his tongue across the warm skin. Randy whined at that, writhing beneath John, his face still flushed red. His lips tugging on the skin, John sucked hard on Randy's neck, teeth scraping against the flushed flesh. Randy actually cried out as John bit down, and that was when John saw his opportunity. Reaching around, John gripped both of Randy's wrists in one hand and quickly pinned them above Randy's head. Pulling away from Orton's throat, John smirked down at his lover as Randy suddenly realized the position he was in. His icy eyes narrowing, Randy snarled in protest, wriggling back and forth beneath John, not liking how helpless he was at all.

"What…_the fuck_ are you doing?" Randy hissed, thrashing beneath John, the muscles over his stomach tightening as he twisted back and forth.

"Shut up, you're going to like it." John grinned, suddenly trailing a finger of his free hand down the middle of Randy's stomach, causing goosebumps to flare across Randy's tan skin.

Randy's pale eyes widened as suddenly John's hand went lower, and then he arched his back as he felt John wrap his hand around his aching cock. Moaning lowly, Randy threw his head back, squeezing his eyes shut as John began to jerk him, his hand moving lazily up and down Randy's dick. Then John's thumb rubbed across the head of Randy's erect cock, and the younger man couldn't help but cry out loudly, bucking his hips against John's touch, his dick sliding easily in John's hand.

"Fuck! Please…" Randy whined, biting down on his bottom lip as John's fingers expertly tugged at his dick.

"Please what, Randy?" John asked quietly, his hand still moving slowly up and down.

"Please…faster…" Randy moaned, thrusting his hips upward, his cock shoved into John's touch. The younger man's face was flushed bright red, and he was bucking his hips in time with John's hand, forcibly sliding his cock in and out of John's fist.

"What was that?" Cena growled, still continuing his tortuously slow jerking of Orton's dick. Randy begging was just so damn sexy.

"Please Johnny…faster!" Randy whimpered, arching his back up, his eyes closed, his teeth biting down on his lip in pleasure.

Cena didn't know why, but somehow Randy calling him 'Johnny' was the sexiest thing he'd ever heard. He quickened his pace, his fist jerking up and down Randy's cock, fingers tugging at the sensitive skin. The younger man keened in ecstasy, thrusting his hips upward as Cena's hand worked his dick, the feeling of John's fingers sliding over the head of his cock nearly enough to make him burst right then and there. Cena must've realized he was about to come, for he suddenly let go of Randy's dick, earning a moan of protest from the man beneath him. Reaching down, John fumbled with his jeans, his nimble fingers quickly unbuttoning his pants and yanking down the zipper. Pulling his jeans down his legs, John couldn't help but smirk arrogantly as his hard dick sprang into view and Randy's eyes widened.

"On your knees." John growled, leaning back and finally releasing his grip on Randy's wrists.

Randy's cock was aching so badly he didn't even protest as he rolled over, crawling onto his hands and knees. Spreading his legs, he lifted his hips in the air while lowering his shoulders, knowing that sloping his body downward would give John a fantastic view. He was right: the sigh of Randy, naked, his ass high in the air, his dick swollen and begging for release was like a scene straight from a porno. Kneeling behind Orton, John spit into his hand and then reached down, giving himself a few quick rubs. Positioning himself behind Randy, his knees brushing against Randy's legs, John reached forward, his hand gripping the Legend Killer by the hips. His nails digging into the skin, John slowly thrust forward, pushing his thick cock against Randy's tight, pink entrance.

"Fuck, Johnny…" Randy groaned, his fists gripping the sheets of his bed, "You're so fucking big…"

John pushed forward more then, burying himself in Randy, moaning as Randy's tight heat encased his cock, nearly choking his dick, Randy was so fucking tight. And then he pulled out before ramming himself back in, and Randy cried out in pain and pleasure, his hands fisting the sheets so tightly his fingers were starting to hurt. John pulled out again, and then again and again he thrust into Randy, his hands holding Randy's hips in place as he bucked into him, nails digging into tan skin. And then John picked up the pace, shoving himself deep in the younger man before yanking himself back out and ramming him again and again, his balls slapping Randy in his thighs as John fucked him fast and hard. His dick sliding in and out of Randy as fast as possible, John groaned loudly as he thrust into Randy, again and again and again his dick was shoved into his lover hard, causing Randy to practically scream in pleasure. Suddenly he pulled out, and then John flipped Randy onto his back before climbing on top of him, positioning himself between Randy's legs. Wrapping his arms around John, Randy dug his nails into John's back, clawing John's light skin as Cena spread Randy's legs and thrust back inside of him, his huge cock stuffing Randy full. Pounding in and out, John fucked Randy, his swollen dick hitting Randy's sweet spot every time he rammed into him.

"Mmm…_Johnny_!" Randy cried out, his hands pressing on John's back, pulling the older man into him, matching each of John's thrusts with the bucking of his own hips.

"You want to come for me, Randy?" John huffed, reaching between their bodies and wrapping his hand once again around Randy's practically bursting cock.

"Ah…yes, Johnny! Please!" Randy screamed out as John began jerking his dick again, his hand moving furiously up and down.

John continued pounding into Randy, his hard cock sliding against Randy's sensitive spot, causing the younger man to arch his back up, his hips moving in unison with John's bucking. His fingers sliding up and down Randy's cock, Cena continued jerking him hard and fast, his thumb rubbing against the head of Randy's cock, his fingers circling over the warm flesh as he continued to pump his hand up and down. The combined sensations of John fisting his cock and John's own dick stroking his prostate was too much for Randy: moaning in pleasure, his body twitched and then he came in John's hand, his dick shooting thin streams of white liquid, his already tight ass clenching even tighter around John's thrusting dick. John groaned loudly as he felt Randy come, the sight of Orton shooting his own cum onto his stomach and the feeling of Randy digging his nails into John's back sending him over the edge. Ramming himself harder then ever into Randy's hot ass, John came, his dick jerking inside of Randy, spurting hot liquid into Randy's ass. Still deep inside Randy, John collapsed on top of him, his chest heaving up and down as he tried to catch his breath, a thin sheen of sweat coating both their tired bodies. Laying on top of Randy, John could feel the Viper's chest rubbing against his own, his tattooed arms beneath John's, his still quivering thighs bumping against John's own legs.

Suddenly Randy was pressing his hands against John's chest, and then he was muttering something about going to clean up. John got the message and rolled off of him, laying on his back, his head resting on one of Randy's pillows. Turning his head to the side, John watched as Randy stood up, carefully making sure that none of the stickiness on his stomach or between his legs came in contact with the sheets or blankets. Orton slowly walked into the bathroom, and then John squeezed his eyes shut as Randy flicked the light on. The brightness didn't last for long; Randy shut the door, and then John heard running water. Randy was quick, in less then five minutes the light turned off and he walked out of the bathroom, his naked body limping toward the bed slowly. As he climbed back into the bed John could smell soap; a mix of lavender and maybe vanilla. It was nice, he decided as he scooted over, making room for Orton, the cottony sheets sliding across his back. Earlier John had been angry, but now all he could feel was a calm contentment washing over him.

"Are you ok?" John asked quietly, sitting up slightly.

"Huh?" Randy looked at him as he wriggled underneath the blankets, laying on his back.

"You were limping." Cena stated, looking down at Randy.

"Oh…yeah." Orton shrugged, "It's…it's been a while since I've…you know."

"Did I hurt you?" John asked worriedly as he frowned.

"Don't worry about it." Randy shrugged again, not meeting John's eyes, "Like I said, it's just been a while. It's not your fault."

"I guess I should get going…" John sighed, looking out of the corner of his eye at Randy, waiting to see his reaction.

"This is the part where I'm supposed to invite you to stay the night—right?" Randy snorted sarcastically, rolling his eyes as he looked up at John with a knowing grin.

"Yeah," John nodded with a laugh, "I guess it is."

"So…Johnny," Orton batted his eyelashes goofily, "Want to stay the night?"

"Do you even have to ask?" Cena grinned back at Randy, "And where did 'Johnny' come from?"

"You know," Randy shook his head, frowning seriously, "I really don't know. Guess I just like the sound of it."

"Yeah," John gave a soft smile, "I think I like it too."

* * *

When John opened his eyes the next morning, it took him several panic stricken seconds to figure out why he wasn't in his own room and why there was something very warm resting on his chest. He was lying on his back, the thin sheets wrapped around his waist, and a certain Legend Killer resting his head on John's chest. One of Randy's arms was thrown across John's stomach, and his brunette head was rising and falling with John's torso as he inhaled and exhaled. He was dead asleep still as Cena peered around the room, trying to figure out what time it was. Judging from the amount of light seeping through the blinds that covered the sole window, it had to at least be noon. That wasn't good…not good at all… It was Monday, and that meant RAW, which meant that Barrett would be looking for him very soon—if he wasn't already. Shifting his body slowly, John reached an arm over to the nightstand where his silvery cell phone was sitting. Trying hard not to move too much, John flipped his phone open, suppressing a resentful groan as he saw two missed calls from the leader of the Nexus. And a voicemail…shit. To make matters even worse, it was already 1:30 in the afternoon…fuck, John hated sleeping in like that. It always made him feel like he was wasting half his day. Placing the phone back on the nightstand, John reached his hand up and rubbed his eyes tiredly. Laying in bed with Randy draped across him was extremely comfortable…he wanted so badly to just roll over and go back to sleep, the Viper curled up in his embrace. But he couldn't. He had to get out of there; he didn't want Barrett to start physically looking for him.

Placing a hand on Randy's shoulder, John gently pushed the younger man off of him. Orton didn't even flinch as he rolled onto his side, the tribal tattoos staining his back on full display as he faced away from John. Randy curled up comfortably, burying his head into the pillow, the steady rhythm of his breathing never faltering despite his complete change in position. John sat up, smiling down at the sleeping man. It seemed Randy was a heavy sleeper, judging from the way John could push him half way across the bed and not even wake him up.

John had learned a lot about Randy last night. After the awesome sex, they'd stayed up talking for almost two hours. They talked about everything under the sun: favorite movie, favorite music, favorite color, favorite fast food… They'd talked and laughed all night until eventually they both drifted off to sleep—still naked, of course. John learned that Randy loved war movies, that 'Saving Private Ryan' was his favorite, but that he still had a soft spot for 'The Lion King'. He learned that Randy absolutely hated the color pink, loved orange and red, and was still unsure of how he felt about yellow. Randy confessed to him that he had been bullied in middle school—but that all changed when he had a growth spurt in high school and shot up to an astonishing six-foot-four. Randy told John that he liked video games when he was growing up, and that the Mortal Kombat series was hands down his favorite of all time. They'd then gotten into a deep discussion over who was better: Scorpion or Sub-Zero. No matter how long they argued, John had been unable to convince Randy that Sub-Zero was the best ninja the series had to offer, and Randy had been unable to convince John that Scorpion's 'Get over here!' phrase alone made him the best MK character of all time. Everything they had talked about had been so trivial, but somehow John loved it. It amazed him that he and Randy could sit around talking about such stupid stuff for two full hours and not get bored…

Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, John stood up, shivering slightly as he felt the cool air hit his naked body. Bending over, he scooped his clothes up off the ground, hurriedly shoving them back onto his body. It was after he finished dressing that he noticed one of the hotel's notepads resting on the nightstand, a pen set right beside it. Grabbing the black pen, John quickly scribbled Randy a note, not wanting Orton to wake up alone and get the wrong idea. Satisfied that Randy would know why he left so abruptly, John turned and headed towards the door, trying to remain as quiet as possible. Pulling the door open, he tiptoed outside the room, turning around to shut the door as slowly and silently as he could. Pulling the door closed behind him, John straightened up and turned around…

He found himself face to face with John Morrison.

"Well, I was wondering who 'Johnny' was." Morrison smirked knowingly, reaching up and running a hand through his luscious brown hair, "Guess I know the answer to that now, huh?"

Morrison was standing before John in a light blue shirt and tight jeans, his hands on his hips as he looked up at Cena. He had a sly twinkle in his eyes as he grinned up at John, revealing a dazzling smile.

"Oh, uh, hey Morrison." Cena said quickly, shoving his hands into his pockets, "I was just, uh, talking to Randy about tonight—"

"You can save your breath, _Johnny_." Morrison chuckled, his grin growing even wider, "You know, if you don't want people knowing about your new relationship, I suggest you teach your boy how to be quiet. A few more nights like that and the whole hotel is going to know what's going on."

"You heard us?" John winced, frowning deeply.

"Cena, I'm in room 513. I was practically getting a play by play of the whole thing." Morrison laughed, flipping his shoulder-length hair to the side, "But seriously, when I heard Randy screaming 'Johnny', I didn't think it would be you. I mean, you were the last person I expected Randy to be bringing home. Guess you have a weakness for bad boys, huh? Can't blame you there…"

"Listen, Morrison," John interrupted him, knowing that Morrison could jabber on for hours if he let him, "You can't tell anyone! If Wade finds out ,both me and Randy will be in huge trouble—"

"Cena!" Morrison scowled deeply, jutting his hip out with defiance, "Now, I can be a bitch when I need to be, but did you really think I'd run off and blab to someone? Come on man, don't you think better of me then _that_?"

"Right, sorry. Thanks." John smiled in relief, his hands still buried deep in his pockets.

"Well, if you're leaving Randy then I'm sure you've got somewhere you've got to be. I'll see you later, Cena." Morrison turned around, heading towards his door, his white shoes striding across the soft carpet.

"Hey Morrison!" John called out.

"Yeah?" The Shaman of Sexy turned around, giving John a friendly smile.

"You think you could do me a favor?" Cena asked carefully.

"I'm probably going to regret this, but sure." Morrison sighed, though he was still grinning.

"You think you could keep an eye on Randy for me?" John continued, frowning slightly, "Wade's getting worse every day, and after all that's happened I wouldn't be surprised if he tried to pull something on Randy…"

"Wait a second," Morrison raised an eyebrow incredulously, "You want me to keep an eye on _Randy_? The Viper? The Legend Killer? WWE's Apex Predator? You want _me_ to watch out for _him_?"

"You know how the Nexus is." John scowled, narrowing his eyes, "If any of them dared to face Randy one on one he'd destroy them. But they play the numbers game, and no matter how good Randy is they keep on getting the better of him."

"Don't worry Cena," Morrison nodded, turning and heading towards his room, "You can count on me. I'll watch out for Randy—so long as next time you guys decide to get naked you gag him or something! Seriously, you guys were keeping me up last night!"

John couldn't help but laugh loudly as he turned around, heading towards the elevator. He had to admit, as shitty as the last week had been, today was turning out very nicely.

* * *

**A big thank you to all my reviewers! Ok so, I have this idea for the fic I'll be doing after this one, and if ya'll could give me your input on it, it'd be much appreciated! I want to do a pirate fic featuring Randy, Cena, the Hardys, Edge, and Christian primarily. And when I say pirate fic, I mean sword fights, drinking rum, searching for treasure, raiding towns, the whole works! What do you guys think? Sound interesting? Yay or nay? Ya'll's opinions will most likely determine if I do it or not-so please please review and tell me what you think!**


	10. Unwanted Advances

Randy Orton strode backstage, a half-smirk plastered across his handsome face.

He had woken up at almost two in the afternoon, rolling over to discover that John was nowhere to be found. Being a natural pessimist, he immediately thought the worst and felt like he'd been punched in the gut. Thankfully it only took a few seconds for him to see the note on the nightstand, only a few seconds of him feeling like total shit. The note was brief and to the point: Wade had called and John couldn't ignore him, he was sorry he had to go, and he had really been planning on spending the day with Randy. At first Randy wasn't really sure if he could believe John—he'd been lied to by enough of his past lovers to warrant suspicion—but eventually he came to the conclusion that, if John actually took the time to leave a note, he probably was telling the truth. Not much had happened after that; Randy took a boiling hot shower—wasting over an hour just basking in the heat. After getting out he went to the gym, running a solid six miles on the treadmill and then proceeding on to an ab routine—not working himself too hard, it was after all Monday, and he'd need to save some energy for the show. He had no doubt that Barrett or some other Nexus stooge would challenge him to a match, and he wanted to be at a hundred percent when that time came.

Walking down the hall, Randy passed locker room after locker room. 13B, 13C, 14A…he was looking for 16C, and it seemed like he was headed in the right direction. He passed by room 14B and couldn't help but smirk as Natalya Neidhart slyly cracked open the door and snuck in…no doubt that room probably belonged to Melina, judging from all the rumors that had been circulating. Why they were keeping it a secret, Randy didn't know. Practically everyone backstage was bisexual, so it wasn't like anyone would have a problem with it…then again, he and John were keeping their relationship a secret… Could he even call it a relationship? Randy couldn't help but mull that thought over as he nodded a greeting to Mark Henry, leaning up against the cinderblock wall to allow the behemoth to pass by.

They weren't dating really…not at all. Sure, they'd fucked, and John spent the night in his room, but they hadn't actually done anything together. Not to mention they weren't exclusive at all…or at least, that's what Randy thought. They hadn't discussed it though…his gym bag slung over his shoulder, Randy finally approached room 16C, wondering if John was seeing anyone else besides him. The thought of Cena having another fuck buddy on the side made Randy clench his jaws together, even though he knew that he had no reason to expect John to be with him and him only. Hell, they'd just started seeing each other barely a week ago…if that even counted. Stopping in front of the door to his locker room, Randy racked his brain, trying to remember if he'd heard anything about John seeing someone. He couldn't come up with anything…and John would've probably said something by now if he had another plaything, right? Wrapping his hand around the door handle, Randy pushed the russet-colored door open, stepping into his locker room…and freezing in place.

Wade Barrett was sitting on a wooden bench in the center of the room, grinning darkly up at Randy. They remained silent for a few moments, Randy staring down at Barrett with hatred, Wade grinning toothily up at the Viper. The locker room itself was rather small, with tall maroon, metal lockers standing behind Barrett, and a dark reddish-brown tile beneath their feet.

" What the hell are you doing in my locker room?" Orton hissed, his voice dangerously quiet. Swinging his gym bag around, he dropped it on the floor, his hands curling into fists as soon as they were free.

"You look surprised to see me." Barrett stood up, making it a point to look down at Randy, "Were you expecting someone else?"

Randy's breath hitched in his throat at that, his cerulean eyes narrowing.

"Hmm, I guess you _were_ expecting someone else." Wade's smirk grew even wider, "Sorry to disappoint you."

"What the hell are you doing here?" Randy repeated, grinding his teeth together.

"Just coming to check up on you, Randy." Barrett's eyes darkened as he stared at Orton, "My boys were a little rough with you yesterday…I'm just doing the polite thing by coming to make sure you're alright."

"Fuck off, Barrett." Randy growled, taking a threatening step forward, "I'm not stupid, I know you planned the whole thing."

"Well that's neither here nor there, is it? You've still got that championship, and I still want it." Wade shrugged, "So we're back to square one, aren't we?"

"You going to challenge me to another match?" Randy sneered, the muscles in his arms flexing as he clenched his fists even tighter, "Go ahead. I'll be happy to beat the shit out of you again."

"Of course we're going to have another match." Wade chuckled sinisterly, "But this one's going to be so much more…_interesting_."

"John's not going to help you, isn't that obvious?" Randy snorted, shaking his head, "He fucking hates you! He's not going to attack me—"

"If I were you, _Randy_," Wade took a few steps forward, quickly closing the gap between them, "I'd start worrying less about Cena and more about yourself."

"Is that supposed to be a threat?" Randy snarled, not backing down to Wade's sudden advancement.

Wade leaned forward, his brown eyes glaring down at the slightly smaller man, "Just a word of advice, Randy: give up. I've got everything worked out for Survivor Series…and you won't stand a chance."

"You really think John in going to help you?" Randy hissed, glaring up at Barrett.

"Let me put it this way," Wade smirked widely, leaning in so close to Randy that their faces were mere inches apart, "I'm going to make Cena an offer he simply can't refuse…no matter how _infatuated_ with you he seems to be."

The astonishment on Randy's face was clear: his pale eyes widened slightly, and he looked away, his heart thumping hard in his chest. No way…there was no way Barrett could know about him and Cena… They were careful, and it'd only been a week…how could he possibly know?

"I…I don't know what you're talking about…" Randy stammered, taking a step back, now entirely unsure of himself.

To his dismay, Wade stepped forward again, and then again, this time standing so close to Randy that he had to take another step back, feeling the wood of the locker room door smack up against his back. Barrett grinned at that, and then he reached up, placing a hand on the door, just above Randy's shoulder, practically caging the smaller man against the door. Leaning forward, Barrett's eyes flashed as they traveled up and down Randy's body, lingering obscenely on Orton's waist.

"You know Randy," Barrett smiled cruelly, looking down at the almost pinned man, "If you ever get bored with Cena—"

The door behind Orton suddenly slammed forward, and Randy found himself being shoved into Barrett's chest. The force of Randy's muscular frame colliding into him caused Barrett to stumble backwards, his hand reaching out and gripping the front of Randy's shirt, pulling the Viper along with him. Both Randy and Barrett wore confused looks on their faces as the door shot open, and none other then John Cena himself walked in, his flashy purple and yellow ring gear immediately announcing his entrance. The easy smile on John's face quickly dropped as he suddenly halted in his steps, staring at the two men before him. Wade was smirking, grabbing onto the front of Randy's black tee with one hand, pulling the infamous Legend Killer against him. Randy himself was looking at John with a mixture of surprise and utter confusion. He turned, facing towards Barrett, and it was then that Randy realized—after being pushed forward—he was resting on of his hands on Wade's shoulder, steadying himself.

"Well now, this _is_ awkward…" Barrett replied suggestively, his eyes narrowing in on Cena.

Randy yanked his hand off of Wade's shoulder like he'd suddenly been burned, and then he jerked away, stumbling backwards and out of Barrett's hold.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" John snarled at Barrett, his hands wrapping into thick fists, his blue eyes narrowing in pure rage.

Wade simply turned and looked at Randy, a knowing smirk plastered across his face.

"What the fuck is he doing here?" John repeated angrily, turning and focusing his heated gaze on Orton.

"I'll just leave you two to discuss this amongst yourselves…" Barrett replied calmly, taking a few steps towards the door. John stepped to the side and Wade quickly exited, disappearing behind the wooden door. As soon as he was gone, Cena rounded on Randy, scowling deeply, his eyes full of cold fire. Randy didn't meet his glare, instead he was staring at the tile floor, clenching his teeth together. The younger man could feel John's hot gaze on him, and it made his cheeks flush bright red with both anger and shame over the situation. He could only imagine the lovely view John had gotten when he entered the room… Wade and Randy, alone in the locker room, Barrett gripping him by the chest, and him resting his hand on Wade's shoulder without even thinking…

"Well?" John growled lowly, his hands still curled into thick fists.

"Well what?" Randy snapped, still refusing to meet John's eyes.

"You know what." John replied, taking a deep breath and squeezing his eyes shut, "What the hell was that all about?"

"I…I don't know…" Randy shrugged honestly, finally raising his eyes to match Cena's, frowning deeply. He wasn't lying…he didn't really know what to make of what Wade had told him.

"You don't know?" John spat, "What the fuck do you mean you don't know? I walk in here to find you alone with fucking Wade Barrett of all people and—"

"Hey! Calm down!" Randy held up his hands defensively, palms out, "I know it looked kind of bad, but if you heard what he was saying—"

"Why were you even alone with him?" Cena demanded with fury, "After all he's done you should know it's not safe for you to even be near him!"

"Hey, I didn't fucking know he was even in here!" Randy seethed, taking a step forward and looking John in the eye, "I just came to my locker room! That's it! I didn't fucking know Barrett was going to be in here, I just walked in and he started going on about Survivor Series and…and…"

Randy's words drifted off into nothing as he saw John's face fall. Immediately upon mentioning Survivor Series, Cena looked away from Orton, the jaw muscles in his cheeks tightening.

"You know something, don't you?" Randy muttered, placing his hands on his hips.

"Look, forget about it—" John began, tiredly reaching up and rubbing his eyes.

"No, I'm not going to forget about it." Randy growled, "You know something, and obviously it's bad—"

"I don't want you to worry, ok?" Cena sighed, walking over to the wooden bench and lowering himself down to it.

"If you don't tell me I'll just find someone else who will, so you might as well save me the time and effort." Randy rolled his eyes, still keeping his hands on his hips.

"Ok, ok. Just promise me you won't get too worked up about it." John looked up at Randy, a small frown marring his handsome face, his eyes wide and pleading.

"Alright, whatever." Randy shrugged lightly, adjusting his weight from one foot to the other.

"I mean it Randy," John said, his voice deep and serious as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, "Promise me you won't get upset."

"Fine, fine…I promise I won't—" Randy began, rolling his eyes once again.

"Barrett made me the ref for your match at Survivor Series." John grumbled quickly, averting his eyes from Randy's icy stare.

"Ok, well, that's not too bad." Orton shrugged again, shaking his head at the same time, "Just call it fair and he can't say anything when I beat his ass into the ring floor—"

"And he said if he loses he'll fire me on the spot." John cringed as he spoke, his eyes still on the floor.

* * *

When John had opened the door and seen Barrett _touching_ his Randy…he was ready wrap his fingers around Wade's throat and squeeze until the English man stopped moving. And that was exactly what went through his mind: _his_ Randy. _His_ Randy getting felt up by the one person in the wrestling industry that John hated the most. He knew he had no right to think of Randy as belonging to him—hell they weren't even dating—but damn it seeing Wade dare to put his hands on Orton made John's blood boil. Cena could truthfully say he was normally a pretty calm, level-headed person…but he was also the jealous type. He didn't like to share…and judging from the way Wade had been looking at Randy, that was exactly what he was looking for. Well, Barrett had another thing coming if he thought he could come on to Randy like that and get away with it… What had been going through the Nexus leader's mind, John couldn't even begin to fathom. Surely he was advancing on Randy to get to John…right? Or was there more to it then that? The attraction wasn't faked, John had realized that pretty quickly… Maybe Barrett really did just want to get into Randy's pants… Like John would _ever_ let that happen.

When John revealed to Randy about the possibility of Wade firing him…well, Randy quickly forgot his promise to not get angry. He dropped his hands from his hips, curling them into fists, his frosty eyes narrowing into thin, infuriated slits.

"You've got to be shitting me…" Randy hissed, his voice low and dark.

"Randy, you said you wouldn't get angry—" John began, standing up, holding out his hands peacefully.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Randy snarled incredulously, "You tell me either I lose or you get fired, and you don't want me to get _angry_?"

"I just don't want you to get too worried, ok?" John reached out, placing a hand on Randy's shoulder, "Look, I'll figure something out—"

"How the fuck can you be so calm about this?" Randy howled, ripping himself away from John's touch, "Barrett was about to assault me and he says he'll fire you if I win at Survivor Series? And you're just going to take that? Are you kidding me?"

"Wait, what do you mean he was about to assault you?" John's lips twisted into a deep scowl as his own eyes narrowed, "Did something fucking happen between you two?"

"You really think I'd let something happen?" Randy asked quietly, giving John a long, hard look.

John opened his mouth to respond, to remind Randy that he had no reason to believe that Randy would be faithful to him, to remind him that Wade Barrett was one of the few men around that was probably big enough and strong enough to try and force Randy into something. Then he closed his mouth, taking a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. He didn't want to say something in anger and then regret it later. His thing with Randy had gone so well last night…he didn't want to mess that up.

"I hate Barrett just as much as you do, remember?" Randy replied quietly, slowly, "You really think I'd let him try something with me?"

John stared at him for a few moments in silence, frowning deeply.

"I'm sorry." Cena said eventually, "I should've known you'd never allow him to pull something. I just walked in and saw him touching you and…"

"Jealous?" Randy smirked at that, leaning back against the door, folding his inked arms across his chest.

"Yeah, I guess so." John gave a small smile, taking a step towards Randy.

"Seriously though," Randy scowled again as John leaned in towards him, "How can you be so calm about this? Either you're fired or I lose the belt—"

"Remember after Bragging Rights when I asked if you were mad at me?" John replied evenly, reaching up and drawing his thumb across the lingering, bluish bruise on Randy's jaw, "You said you were mad, but you just didn't want to have to think about it. It's kind of like that…I'm starting not to care."

"You don't care about getting fired?" Randy raised an eyebrow, goosebumps flaring across his skin as he felt the light touch of John's thumb.

"Of course I care…" John shrugged, pulling his thumb downward, across Randy's neck, "I guess I'm just kind of wrapped up with other things right now."

"Other things?" Randy smirked handsomely at that as John's thumb finally came to rest on the bright red mark he'd left on Randy's collar bone.

"Yeah other things. Distractions, you know." John's smile grew wider, "It's kind of hard to worry about Wade Barrett and the Nexus when all I can think about is you."

"Yeah, sorry about that." Randy looked away, grinning to himself. He didn't know why, but John's comment made his cheeks burn.

"So…I've managed to get you out of competing tonight." Cena said, drawing his hand away from Randy's collar bone and placing it down on his hip.

"How'd you do that?" The Legend Killer asked as he tilted his head to the side.

"I convinced the GM that you were too injured from last night to compete." John suddenly shook his head in disgust, "Yeah, I had to do that through email. Damn GM still refuses to show his face…"

"Are you done for the night too?" Randy asked, leaning into John's touch.

"Yeah. So…what now?" John smirked suggestively.

"Whatever you want." Randy shrugged, his light eyes flashing.

"Whatever I want…why don't you surprise me?" Cena pulled his hand away from Randy, crossing both arms over his massive chest.

"Yeah, I think I could do that." Randy nodded, giving John a wicked smile.

* * *

**Sorry it took me so long to get this up (finals week...ew). Anyway, thanks for reading and please review!**


	11. Scheming

Randy reached forward, and his fingertips wrapped around the hem of John's purple shirt. Pulling the cottony fabric up over John's head, he threw it to the side, not even bothering to look as the cloth crumpled onto the rust-colored tile. John mimicked his actions: his own hands grabbed Randy's black shirt, tugging it off the younger man and casting it away just as quickly. Cena couldn't help but give a dimpled smirk: Randy was quite the delicious sight. His toned, tan stomach was a particularly drool-worthy feature of his, and John felt like he could stare at Randy's muscular, heavily inked arms for hours, his eyes just tracing the dark lines that marred the Viper's biceps, triceps, and forearms. John would never admit it, but he'd always found Randy's cold, icy blue eyes to be particularly striking—even long before they were fucking…hell, even way back when they first met in OVW he had found Randy Orton's frosty gaze enticing. He'd always kept that to himself, of course. Now though—alone in the locker room, Randy smirking at him teasingly—he couldn't help but stare at those pale eyes as he reached up, placing a hand on the back of Randy's neck. Smiling, John eagerly pulled Randy's head forward, smashing their mouths together, his teeth nibbling at Orton's soft lips. He'd been in plenty of relationships—plenty of awesome, loving relationships—but when Randy moaned into the kiss, reaching up, his fingers nimbly working at the button and zipper of Cena's jean shorts…well, John had never felt lust like he did then. Randy Orton had become like fire to John, and every time they touched Cena couldn't help but feel like he was being consumed.

His cock painfully stiffening, John sucked in a sharp breath of air as he felt Randy slowly tug down his zipper, his fingertips purposefully grazing across the hardness between John' legs. And then the younger man was reaching into John's shorts, and Cena couldn't help but gasp out loud as he felt Randy's hand wrap around his throbbing cock, soft fingers dragging up and down across the sensitive flesh. Randy pulled away from him then, and to John's surprise he lowered himself down, his charming smirk widening as he kneeled on the tile floor, eye-level with Cena's obvious hard on.

"Randy…" John hissed as the younger man's hand suddenly pulled his dick from out of his jeans, the thick hardness bobbing mere inches in front of Randy's face.

Orton's light eyes looked up at John as he gave a small, sinful grin, his hand traveling down the length of Cena's cock and wrapping around the base. He leaned forward, and John's hands clenched into fists as Randy's tongue flicked out, the warm wetness lightly dragging across the very tip of John's cock. That gentle, hot touch sent vibrations of pleasure shooting between John's legs, and he couldn't help but push his hips forward, his swollen dick pressing up against Randy's lips, begging for more attention. Randy's hand squeezed on the base of John's cock, moving up and down slowly as he leaned forward. Pulling his fingers up around the head of Cena's stiff dick, Randy tilted his head to the side, his tongue lashing out at the base of John's hard on. John leaned his head back, jaw in the air and his eyes tightly clenched shut, growling in pleasure as Randy's tongue slid all the way from the base to head of his cock, the warm wetness gliding across the underside of Cena's huge dick. Randy's hand started jerking him, then, his fingers moving up and down slowly, his tongue flicking out again to lightly caress the swollen head of John's cock. Cena groaned loudly at that, and then he reached a hand forward, placing it on the back of Randy's head, pulling the younger man towards him.

Cena bit his bottom lip hard as Orton's head bobbed down, taking in a few inches of his practically bursting dick. His tongue swirling across the underside, Randy turned his head to the side, widening his mouth as he took more of John's length in, the tip of his thick cock pressing up against the inside of Randy's cheek. Waves of pleasure exploded between John's legs as he felt the head of his cock glide against the velvety inside of Randy's mouth, the warm wetness making his dick so hard it almost hurt. His fingers were gripping Randy's hair tight, holding the younger man's head in place as he bucked his hips slightly, his dick pushing roughly against Randy's mouth. Orton pulled away suddenly, a self-satisfied smirk on his gorgeous face.

"When the hell did you become such a cock tease?" John hissed, his fingers still grabbing onto Randy's short, brown hair as much as they could.

"You like it." Randy scoffed, pale eyes looking up at John, flashing with false-innocence and arrogance.

"You're damn right I do." John growled, his fingernails pressing into the back of Randy's head, "Now quit fucking teasing me."

Cena didn't know why, but he liked being rough with Randy. As Randy opened his mouth, John thrust his hips forward, forcing his massive cock down the younger man's throat. Randy was no novice; he didn't even flinch as John pulled back out and then—his fingers tugging on Randy's hair—shoving himself back into Randy's willing throat. John didn't know what came over him, but soon he was bucking his hips feverishly, his thick cock sliding in and out of Randy's mouth, his entire length stabbing down into Randy's throat and then pulling back out, only to be rammed back in. The feeling of Randy's hot, wet mouth surrounding his dick was making John see stars, and it wasn't long before he could feel himself hitting the edge. Growling loudly, his fingers tightened even more on Randy's hair, and he pulled Randy into him, his cock thrusting down his throat. Again and again he shoved himself into Randy's warm mouth, and then his body shook, and bucked harder then ever, his dick shooting strings of white, hot liquid as he buried his cock in Randy's throat. Orton remained still, allowing John to come in his throat, swallowing deeply as Cena pulled out, his spent dick still trembling slightly. Cena was taking a few slow, deep breaths as he looked down at Randy. The younger man reached up, wiping the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand, smirking up at John.

"Never knew you had that in you, Johnny." Randy grinned wickedly, still remaining on his knees at he looked up at John.

"Yeah well, I'm full of surprises." John smiled as he buttoned his pants back up. He offered his hand out to Randy, helping the kneeling man back to his feet.

"We should probably get out of here…" The Legend Killer reached down to the floor, scooping up both the black and purple shirts.

"You don't want me to return the favor?" Cena couldn't hide his surprise and slight disappointment as Randy handed him his shirt. He had been looking forward to making Randy scream his name…

"I just don't think this is really the best place for it." Randy pulled the black shirt over his head, biceps flexing nicely as he yanked the shirt on, "I mean, what if Wade had come back and walked in on us a few minutes ago? Or someone else even."

"I think he already knows." Cena scowled, tugging his own shirt back on, "But I see what you mean. People would flip a shit if they found out Randy Orton was sucking off John Cena…"

"Everyone's going to freak when they find out, aren't they?" Randy cringed in disgust at that thought. John didn't blame him; the Superstars and Divas were notorious gossipers backstage. If someone walked in on them…well, everyone in the business would know within a few hours—if even that. What made it even worse was that he and Randy were long time 'enemies', and certainly not each other's type…yeah, the whole locker room was going to explode once the news broke out.

"Yeah, they will, but who cares?" John shrugged, "So…what now? You heading back to the hotel?"

"Probably." Randy nodded, reaching down and grabbing his gym bag, "I don't really have anywhere else to go."

"Should I come with you?" Cena grinned hopefully.

"It's up to you." Randy shrugged nonchalantly, though he was staring at John out of the corner of his eye.

"Do you want me to come with you?" John's grin grew even wider.

"It's up to you." Randy repeated dryly, shooting John a sly glare.

"Come on Randy," Cena's grin turned into a cocky smirk as he placed his hands on his hips, "Just admit you want me to come home with you and fuck you all night long."

"Fine, fine." Randy rolled his eyes, turning towards the door, "I want you to come home with me and fuck me all night long…you happy? Now can we get out of here?"

"See? Now that wasn't too hard to admit, was it?" John teased as he walked towards the door, reaching out and wrapping his hand around the handle.

"Oh shut up." Randy scowled, his cheeks turning red as they walked out the door.

Unbeknownst to them, however, Wade had not been the only person in the locker room when Randy walked in.

* * *

"_I don't get it…why do you want me to hide in Randy Orton's locker room?"_

"_Let's just say I have a hunch, and I need it to be confirmed before I proceed…you understand?"_

"_Well…what am I supposed to be looking for?"_

"_Don't worry, that will quickly become very obvious…that is, if my hunch is correct. If I am wrong, then you shouldn't see anything out of the ordinary."_

"_What if he finds me? He'll beat the shit out of me…"_

"_Then don't let him fucking find you."_

"_I don't know about this…"_

"_Should I find someone else to…give me what I want?"_

"_No! I'll…I'll do it. You know I'll do it."_

"_Good. Now let's go, he should be here very soon."_

When Wade Barrett had ordered him to hide in Randy Orton's locker room…well, Justin had been very, very confused, to say the least. But he had known that Wade wouldn't ask him to do it if he didn't have a good reason, and so he had complied—eagerly, as always. When they got to Randy's room, Wade his in a small supply closet to the side, leaving it barely cracked open so that he could peek one eye out to see what was going on. Orton himself arrived not too long after Barrett helped him hide…and from then on out, there was just one surprise after another. The ensuing argument between Randy and Wade had been expected…Wade cornering Randy, about to give him an indecent proposal…now _that_ had been a little bit more then shocking. At first Justin had felt his heart pound with jealousy, wondering why his lover would flaunt his flirting with Randy when he _knew_ Justin was watching. But that was the way Wade was, wasn't it? He didn't give a shit about what anyone else thought…why would he care if his fuck buddy was hiding in a closet, watching him flirt with the WWE Champion? The jealousy Justin had felt upon seeing Barrett touch Randy had quickly been replaced with…arousal. Hiding in the closet, one dark eye staring out through the small gap between the door and the frame…Justin couldn't tear his eyes away as he watched his leader practically pin Randy to the wall.

Seeing the fear in Randy's eyes…Justin couldn't but picture his Wade smacking Randy around, making the Viper scream. Barrett had a sadistic side…especially when it came to sex, as Gabriel knew firsthand. His lover liked to get rough with him when they fucked, he liked to be in control and make people submit. It didn't take long for Justin to realize why Wade was attracted to Randy…the Legend Killer had a spirit that would be delicious to break. As soon as Justin saw the look in Wade's eyes as he stared Randy up and down…well, he knew immediately that one day Wade was going to fuck him, whether Randy was willing or not. Strangely, Justin didn't feel upset by this…on the contrary, as he hid in the closet, he began to hope that—when the time came—Wade would be kind enough to let him watch. Now _that_ would be sexy: watching his Wade bring Randy Orton to his knees…maybe if he was really lucky, Barrett would reward all of his hard work by letting him get a piece of the action…

When John Cena burst in…Justin was more confused then ever. What part did Cena play in all that? It wasn't too difficult to figure out; the fire that entered John's eyes when he saw Wade touching Randy made it quite clear just why he was paying the Viper a visit. Justin had sat in a stunned silence as Wade left and Randy and John started arguing; the familiarity in their conversation made it pretty obvious that the two were comfortable with each other…_very_ comfortable, as Justin soon figured out. When Randy got on his knees in front of John, he had to bite his tongue to keep from crying out in pure shock. And then Cena whipped out his dick and Randy Orton started sucking like his life depended on it. Fuck…now _that_ had been hot. Sitting there in the dark closet, watching Randy get throat-fucked by Cena…Justin had to resist the urge to stuff his hand down his pants and start jerking off. Who knew Cena would be so rough with Randy? He'd grabbed him by the hair and shoved his cock so far down Randy's throat Gabriel wondered how he didn't choke. Watching John ram his impressively sized dick in and out of Randy's mouth had gotten Justin all hot and bothered; sitting in silence, he couldn't help but picture his Wade roughing Randy up, then maybe cuffing his hands behind his back…then grabbing Randy by the hair and forcing his own cock down the struggling man's throat. And then of course, after he made Orton suck the cum out of his dick, Wade would let Justin get a turn…and Justin would fuck his throat so hard he wouldn't be able to talk for a week.

Approaching the Nexus locker room, Justin reached down and adjusted his pants, trying to rid his mind of thoughts of him and Wade taking turns with Randy. Pushing open the door, he stepped into the room. Barrett was sitting on the wooden bench in the center, looking up at Justin expectantly. He stood up as Gabriel entered, his dark eyes flashing.

"Well?" Wade spoke lowly, his eyes glaring hard at the smaller man.

"Let me guess…you wanted me to find out if Cena and Orton were an item, right?" Justin smiled, reaching up and pushing some of his black hair out from in front of his eyes.

"If you've found out for sure, now's the time to tell me." Barrett sneered impatiently, looking down at Justin, "I've been waiting for you for almost half an hour. What the hell took you so long?"

"Sorry." Justin smirked, placing his hands on his hips, "I couldn't leave. Cena and Orton were giving me a show…and taking their damn time with it."

"A show?" Barrett actually cracked a cruel smile at that, "Well, aren't you the lucky one. What exactly did you get to see?"

"A lot, actually." Gabriel's smirk grew wider as he leaned back, his shoulders hitting the cement wall.

"Did they fuck?" Wade growled, folding his arms across his chest.

"No…but Orton got on his knees and sucked Cena's cock like a little slut." Justin sneered in response.

"Did he now?" Barrett's grin grew even wider, "And you got to see all of it?"

"Oh yeah, I saw every second of it." Gabriel nodded, his head bobbing up and down eagerly, "And after Orton let Cena come down his throat, they left to go back to his room."

"Hmm…well, that answers any questions I had regarding those two." Barrett's eyes narrowed thoughtfully as he turned to the side, looking away from Justin, "I wonder how the rest of the locker room would feel if they knew our WWE Champion was blowing John Cena behind the scenes…"

"So what are we going to do now?" Gabriel cocked an eyebrow up as he stared at Wade, waiting for a response.

"The only reason I haven't been able to take the belt from Randy is because Cena's been watching over him." Wade muttered, scowling deeply, "So it's quite obvious what we have to do."

"…Yeah?" Justin nodded, his eyes wide.

Barrett rolled his eyes in annoyance, "We have to take Cena out of the picture."

"I thought the plan from the start was to destroy Cena?" Gabriel frowned, tilting his head to the side in confusion as he looked up at Barrett.

"Destroying Cena was just a perk." Wade snapped in irritation, glowering at Justin, "The plan was for me to attain the title…breaking John Cena was just the proverbial icing on the cake. Right now he is the only thing standing between me and Randy…so he needs to be dealt with."

"You want the team to attack him?" Gabriel's face split into a giddy grin as he straightened up, leaning away from the wall.

"No, absolutely not." Wade shook his head, "Attacking Cena would be counterproductive—it would only make him want to fight us even more."

"The how are we supposed to—" Justin began earnestly.

"We need to split them up." Barrett snarled suddenly, tiring of having to explain everything to his little stooge.

"And how are we supposed to do that?" Gabriel asked quietly, knowing that his lack of intelligence was something that would quickly anger his lover.

"We'll make it very clear to Cena that, should he continue to see Randy, the Nexus will continue to pay special attention to him. Do you understand what I'm saying?" Wade finished his question by giving Justin a long, hard look.

"Yeah, I understand." Gabriel nodded slowly, knowing that that was the answer Barrett wanted to hear.

"Good." Wade stepped back, reaching down to grab his gym bag up off the floor, "Tomorrow I am going to pay Randy a personal visit…"

* * *

**Thanks to all my reviewers!**


	12. Violation

John Cena's eyes cracked open, and he winced, reaching up to block the sudden onslaught of light. Placing his hand over his face, he took a couple of slow, deep breaths, trying to shake the sleep out of his brain. His thoughts were moving slow as he squinted his eyes open, his vision fuzzy and hard to focus. Glancing around the room, John shifted slightly, feeling his bare back rub against the cottony sheets. He was lying on his side, curled slightly, a certain warm, almost naked body fitted against him, facing away from him. Randy was still dead asleep, his chest rising and falling steadily, his inked arms clutching a white pillow against his stomach. He was spooned up against John, a single pillow buried under his head, and the second held tight up to his body. John couldn't help but give a small smile as he sat up, looking down at the younger man beside him. Randy was hugging onto that pillow like his life depended on it…and—even though Cena definitely was_ not_ the sappy type—he had to admit it was kind of cute. Damn…who would've thought he'd ever think of Randy Orton—WWE's Apex Predator—as cute? Funny how things could change so quickly… Barely two weeks ago he would've easily nodded in agreement if someone said his biggest rival, and possibly greatest enemy, was Randy Orton. Now they were sleeping together—both literally and figuratively. Laying back down, John reached out to the side of the bed, his hand scrambling across the wooden nightstand at the bedside. Eventually his fingers found what they were looking for: his metallic cell phone. Tapping the touch screen, he quickly glanced at the time before setting the phone back down.

Noon. Damn…as much as he liked sleeping over at Randy's room, he didn't like wasting half his day in bed. He was always a morning person…but he and Randy tended to have long, busy nights, and that made waking up much, much more difficult.

Laying his head back down on the pillow, John stared up at the ceiling, wondering what to do next. Last night, before they fell asleep, Randy had mumbled something about John waking him up…he'd already been halfway into dreaming when he said that, so John hadn't really been able to understand him. When they came back to the room it was already late, so they just sat around watching some TV. John learned—much to his amusement—that Randy loved the Food Network; they must've spent two hours watching people cook up delicious deserts and visit the best restaurants in the world. John would've never pegged Randy as the cooking type, and he hadn't been able to contain his laughter as Randy watched 'Iron Chef' with rapt attention. He'd learned so much about the notorious Legend Killer…so many things he hadn't expected. After the Food Network came Animal Planet, and they spent almost an hour watching a documentary on crocodiles—Randy thought they were some of the most badass animals on the planet. After that they'd gotten into an argument over which was better, rap or rock music, and their heated discussion soon turned into an all-out wrestling match. John had quickly found himself on top of Orton, and one thing eventually led into another and…well, he could understand why he slept in so late. He could also understand why Randy seemed to be so damn tired still… Grinning smugly, John reached over, placing a hand on Randy's shoulder, shaking him slightly.

"Hey…hey, Randy." John said quietly, propping himself up with his arm, his elbow digging into the mattress.

No response. The Viper's breathing remained steady, undisturbed.

"Randy…?" Cena tilted his head to the side, shaking the younger man again.

This time Randy twitched in response, his frame curling up more, pulling away from John's touch.

"Come on Randy…" Cena rolled his eyes good naturedly, still tapping him on the shoulder, "You wanted me to wake you up…remember?"

He grumbled something, his slurring words sounding like the irritated growls of a grizzly bear.

"What was that?" John smirked, his voice taking on a false sweetness.

"I said fuck off." Orton growled, rolling over onto his stomach, burying his head into the soft pillow.

"Come on…you were going to go work out, remember?" Cena sat up more, the sheets falling down to his waist, sticking to his warm body.

"Later." Randy groaned, not moving at all.

"It's already noon…if you keep putting it off, you won't do it. That's what you said last night, remember?" John's grin grew wider as Randy rolled onto his back. Reaching up, he yanked his pillow from beneath his head and placed it over his face, trying his damnedest to ignore Cena.

"Don't feel like it right now…" Orton snarled, his words muffled through the thick pillow.

"Aw come on, you said you really wanted to go on a run, remember?" John persisted, reaching over and running his fingers down Randy's stomach. John couldn't help it; when Randy was shirtless he just was unable keep his hands to himself. John grinned in satisfaction as his fingers glided over Randy's abdomen, causing his cut muscles to quiver in response.

"So…run? Workout? Remember talking about that last night?" Cena continued, undeterred by Randy's lack of enthusiasm.

"Hey Cena?" Randy lifted the pillow off his face, shooting John a frosty death glare, "Unless you're going to fuck me, you should really let me go back to sleep."

"Hey, last night you told me to wake you up and remind you to go workout, I'm just doing what you told me." John laughed, looking down at Randy.

"If I get up and go for a run today, will you let me sleep in tomorrow?" Randy groaned, reaching up to rub his tired eyes, his biceps flexing enticingly.

"You're assuming I'm staying with you tonight too." Cena stated abruptly, turning and giving Randy a sidelong glance.

"You got somewhere else you'd rather be tonight?" Randy asked dryly, scowling as he looked up at John, still remaining on his back.

"Of course not." John shook his head, giving Randy a small, serious smile, "If you run today I promise I won't wake you up tomorrow, deal?"

"Deal." Randy sighed, "Damn…you're annoying…"

"You weren't complaining last night." Cena grinned arrogantly, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and standing up slowly.

"Yeah well, last night you were being useful, now you're just bothering me…" Randy smirked handsomely, also standing up, stretching his arms up in the air, wearing nothing but a pair of black boxers.

"Aw, are you trying to hurt my feelings Randy?" Cena gave a fake frown, reaching down to scoop his clothes off of Randy's floor.

"Oh shut up." Randy threw John's shirt at him, the purple fabric hitting Cena right in the face.

* * *

His chest heaving, desperately forcing air in and out of his lungs, Randy reached up, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand. He was on a sleek, black treadmill, his Nikes pounding hard against the track. The hotel gym was pretty empty; there were a few women using the aerobics room to do what looked like a spine-knotting routine of yoga and Pilates. To the far side of the room, in front of a few large, shimmery mirrors, two or three high school boys were using the bench, lifting a meager amount—or at least, it was meager compared to what Randy was accustomed to. Randy was the only one using the cardio machines—the ellipticals were empty and his treadmill was the only one whirring with energy. He was running at a decent, seven minute pace—a little slow for him, this was the pace he preferred when he was doing longer distances.

For the shorter runs he'd aim for a six minute pace or less. At about mile three he'd slipped his sweaty t-shirt off, hanging it on the bar to his left, leaving him in only his black Nikes and a pair of dark blue gym shorts. Beads of sweat were rolling down his torso, and as he reached mile seven (forty-eight minutes straight of running) he could see the high school boys staring at him in admiration. Whether that was due to his rigorous pace or his impressive stomach and back muscles, he didn't know, but the ego boost made him pick up his step. Eyes narrowed in concentration, he focused on his breathing, his chest aching from the effort it took to maintain the oxygen level in his blood. His legs felt good though; neither his calves nor his thighs had started aching yet. Usually his legs began to tire at around mile eight or nine, and by ten or eleven (if he went that far) his legs would be feeling like they were made of cement. Once he got to that feeling he'd usually try to push on for another mile, just to force his body to adapt, and then he'd collapse in exhaustion.

He had forgotten his iPod back at the room, so—as he began his eighth mile—he couldn't help but think back to last night. After the craziness with Barrett, he and John had gone back to his room and watched TV. Randy had never been much of a television guy (with the exception of the Food Network) but he found it a lot more enjoyable when he had someone to talk to while watching. Him and Cena had had a fun time watching crocodiles drag kicking zebras to the bottom of the river—as sadistic as it may sound, Randy had found their hunting fascinating, and him and John quickly became engrossed in the documentary. Then of course they fucked—which always seemed to be the inevitable outcome of all of their encounters—and Randy had fallen asleep against John, waking up in almost the exact same position he'd been in when he first closed his eyes. He'd asked John to come with him to the gym, expecting him to eagerly agree—everyone knew how much of a workout freak Cena was—but to Randy's surprise, John said he had to go back to his room to run a few errands, shower, and get some clean clothes. Cena ended their conversation by saying he'd meet up with Randy back at his room after he was done working out, and then maybe they could go out and explore the city, and actually do something together. They were currently in New York, and John was sure they could find something fun to do. After that John had pulled Randy close up against him, giving him a gentle kiss on the lips, and then turning to leave, a wide smile on his face.

Hitting his ninth grueling mile, Randy reached forward, his fingers working on the buttons of the treadmill, slowing down the machine. Nine miles was a pretty decent cardio workout, he decided, sucking in breath after breath as his legs slowed. After a few minutes of walking, he reached forward again, this time turning the treadmill off. Stepping to the side, he grabbed his white shirt off the bar, heart still pounding rapidly in chest as he tried to steady his breathing. He'd felt great while running, and—after a few calf, hamstring, and quad stretches—he decided to hit the locker room. Ignoring the sly eyes of the yoga women, he strode across the gym, reaching the door to the locker room in a few quick, easy strides. Reaching down, he yanked the door open, walking inside briskly. He'd left his gym bag in the locker way in the back, so he weaved his way past the bathroom stalls and past the tiny showers, heading towards the far side of the locker room. The tile beneath his feet was a dull beige, and the metal lockers were of a matching color. Reaching locker 221, he pulled it open, yanking out his black bag and setting it down on the wooden bench behind him. It then that he heard footsteps, and Randy turned, looking over his bare shoulder, his breath catching in his throat as a tall, lanky man came into his line of view. Turning around, Randy's hands clenched into tight fists as he realized just who had entered the locker room.

Wade Barrett. The leader of the Nexus was leaning against a line of lockers, wearing dark jeans and a black shirt, a cocky smirk plastered across his face. His narrowed eyes were working their way up and down Randy, pausing noticeably as they grazed over his bare abdomen, taking in the tight muscles. Orton could feel the hairs on the back of his neck stand up as Barrett looked him up and down—he couldn't help but feel a little violated. Judging from the grin on Wade's face, he was thinking something very unpleasant… Fuck, what was he doing here? Randy's head raced with a million thoughts as he scowled, taking a step back.

"What do you want with me?" Randy hissed, his voice low and quiet, eyes narrowed into angry slits as he glared across the room at Barrett.

"You didn't think I was done with you…did you?" Wade chuckled cruelly as he took a few slow, calculated steps toward Randy.

"Attacking me isn't going to get you the championship." Orton snapped, pointing a furious finger at Barrett, his heart thumping harder than ever as the leader of the Nexus took another step, and another…

"What make you think I'm going to attack you to get the championship?" Barrett asked, reaching up, drawing a finger across Randy's jaw line. The bruise from the previous attacks had, for the most part, faded away…but the pain had not. The Viper couldn't help but flinch, yanking his head away from Barrett's touch, a fearful, fluttery feeling in his stomach. He'd couldn't believe Barrett was audacious enough to actually _touch_ him…and here they were, all alone…

"How do you know I'm not here to attack you for another reason?" Wade continued, his smile widening as he lowered his hand, probing eyes still staring at Randy, "Perhaps I'm here because John Cena has rebelled against me…I must punish him for helping you at Bragging Rights, you see. But I can't hurt him; that would never work. He's not the type to give in to physical pain. So think of this as _you_ paying the price because _he_ decided to disobey me…"

Wade moved so quickly Randy didn't have much time to react. His fist shot out, and he punched Randy hard across the cheek, causing the slightly smaller man to cry out in surprise and pain. Randy crumbled to the ground, his hand clutching at his cheek, his mind unable to comprehend what had just happened. Barrett smiled down at the writhing man, and then he reached forward, his fingers working their way into Randy's brown hair. He caressed Randy's head, fingers moving from his scalp down to the side of his cheek, and then down to grip Randy by the jaw, forcing him to look up. Randy's pale eyes were filled with pain, rage, and…delicious fear. Wade felt a rush of heat between his legs as he held Randy's jaw still, forcing the kneeling man to look him in the eye. He struggled a little, but as Wade's grip on him tightened, his nails digging into Randy's skin, the smaller man went still. He was staring up at Wade with such hatred it was intoxicating…Barrett loved his spirit, would love to take his time breaking it… That had recently become his greatest lust: to break Randy Orton to pieces.

"You ask what I want with you, Randy?" Wade snarled, pulling Randy's head forward so that his cheek was resting against one of Barrett's jean-clad thighs, "I think it's pretty obvious just what I want…"

For the first time since one of his ex's hit him in the middle of a fight, Randy felt genuinely afraid. He struck his fist out, catching Barrett in a blow to his stomach, causing the standing man to keel over, clutching at his abdomen. He cursed loudly as Randy scrambled to his feet, trying to get away, but then he speared the escaping man to the ground—catching Randy right in the stomach and causing both of them to tumble down onto the tile. They rolled back and forth for a few moments, Randy kicking out with as much strength as he could, catching Barrett painfully in the shins with his heels. Barrett cried out in agony at that, and he punched Randy in the gut, the glancing blow just barely strong enough to make Randy wince in pain. They struggled some more, and then eventually Barrett got the upper hand, his tall body forcing itself on top of Randy, his hands wrapping around Randy's wrists and pinning the smaller man to the ground. Orton wasn't done yet though; he continued to kick out in protest, his struggling body rubbing up against Barrett in a very nice way… Wade slapped him across the face, and then Randy used his now-free hand to throw an elbow at Barrett's nose. He missed his target, but he did manage to catch Barrett in the cheek, knocking his head back. Wade then somehow kicked Randy's legs apart, and then he was forcing himself between the fighting man's legs, forcing his groin against Randy's, smirking in triumph as Randy—feeling Wade's unmistakable hard on pressing up against his ass—howled out in anger, his face turning a bright, shameful red.

"Excuse me?"

Both Randy and Wade instantly went still at the sound of a third-party voice, turning to their left, both of them wearing expressions of shock. Wade was still holding Randy down by the wrists, Randy's bare back scraping against the tile, and both were completely silent as they turned to see who had spoken.

"I think you should get off of him…right now." John Morrison was standing at the entrance to the locker room, wearing tight jean pants, a bright red shirt, and a dark, frightening scowl of rage on his face. His wavy brown hair was framing his face nicely as his chocolate eyes glared at the two on the floor, his hands threateningly curled into white-knuckled fists.

"Do yourself a favor, Morrison…stay out of my business!" Wade growled, still remaining where he was, "I have no quarrel with you…and it would be in your best interest to keep it that way by turning around and getting the fuck out of here."

Morrison narrowed his eyes, his gaze turning from Wade to Randy. The Legend Killer's eyes were wide and pleading as he stared up at the Shaman of Sexy. He didn't say anything…but the message was clear: _please for the love of God don't leave me alone with this psychotic pervert. _

"You know, I don't think Hunter Helmsley would be very happy if he knew how you were treating our WWE Champion…" Morrison sighed, giving Wade a sharp look, "I might just have to give him a call, let him know that Wade Barrett's giving Randy Orton a hard time…and who knows? He might decide to pay you a visit to take care of that…you want that to happen, Barrett? You want me to go make a phone call to Hunter? Because if you don't get the fuck off of Randy right now, that's exactly what I'm going to do…and trust me, Hunter does _not_ like it when his boy's getting fucked with."

Barrett went very quiet at that, his face turning a dark red. After a few moments of consideration, he let go of Randy's wrists, shoving the WWE Champion in the chest as he stood up, his hands clenching into infuriated fists. He gave Morrison a long, stony look as he walked past him, yanking the locker room door open and quickly disappearing. The enraged look on his face made it very clear that he was not happy at all with how things turned out. To Randy's dismay, as he disappeared behind the door, he shot him one last, hateful look.

Morrison strode over to Randy, holding his hand out to the downed man, "Come on. Let's get you up to your room."


	13. After the Gym

"You have to tell someone." Morrison said sharply, a deep frown on his handsome face, "I don't care if it's Hunter, John, Vince, or Stephanie…you _cannot_ let him get away with that."

He and Randy were standing in the elevator side by side. The walk out the gym, through the lobby and finally onto the elevator was awkward, with both men remaining silent the entire time. After Wade had left Randy had hurriedly scooped up his shirt and his gym bag, and then Morrison lead him out of the gym. He didn't know why Morrison was helping him, didn't know why he hadn't left already, why he seemed determined to accompany Randy all the way back to his room…but frankly, at this point, Randy was still in shock over what had just happened. He'd always thought Wade was a violent, manipulative bastard…but he never would've guessed he'd go this far. Randy felt sick to his stomach when he thought about what would've happened if Morrison hadn't shown up…his skin already felt dirty just from being touched by the leader of the Nexus, he didn't want to think about how awful he would've felt if things had gone further. Fuck…just the thought of Wade being sexually interested in him made Randy want to run screaming in the opposite direction. He wasn't a fearful person, wasn't really afraid of anything…until now. When he'd seen that dark, determined gleam in Barrett's haunting eyes…he knew that the English man wasn't going to take no for an answer. As he looked in Wade's eyes, Randy knew that Barrett had made up his mind: he wanted Randy Orton, and nothing—not even Randy himself—would stop him from getting what he wanted. Any other man might've given up once they'd seen their interest wasn't reciprocated…but not Barrett. Judging from the disgusting hardness Randy had felt between Wade's legs, the guy got off on hurting him…

After the elevator doors had shut behind them, Morrison had finally broken the silence.

"It's not that simple—" Randy sighed tiredly, reaching up to rub his eyes with the back of his hand. His gym bag was in one hand and his white, sweaty shirt was in the other.

"Not that simple?" Morrison turned, giving Randy an incredulous look, "Randy…he's attacked you like five times already! And now he's taking it even further…I mean, what the hell would you have done if I hadn't been there?"

"I…I would've figured something out." Randy growled, though his voice was pitchy and unconvincing, almost like he didn't even believe himself.

"Randy…he already had you pinned down." Morrison's voice was almost pleading, his scowl turning into a sad frown, "You can't let him get away with this. If you don't do anything, he's going to think you're just going to let it happen…how far are you going to let him take this until you finally do something about it?"

"I was fighting back!" Randy hissed angrily, turning to look at Morrison, forcing himself to meet his eyes, "It wasn't like I was just laying there taking it!"

"Oh, yeah, that was working _real_ well." Morrison snorted as he rolled his eyes, "Randy, you need to start taking this seriously—"

"Look, don't get me wrong, I'm glad you came in to save the day, but you're not even my friend." Randy snapped, looking away from Morrison, "It's not your job to stand there and try and tell me what to do."

Morrison hesitated, opening his mouth to reply, but then he seemed to think better of it. He clamped his lips together, turning and looking away from Randy, his brown eyes focusing on the increasing numbers lit above the doors of the elevator. They were only on floor two…Randy was already pissed and they still had three more to go.

"Ok, you're right." Morrison sighed, his voice quiet and reasonable, "It's not really my place to be telling you what you should or shouldn't do. I just…I know that Wade isn't going to give up, and I'm worried about what's going to happen the next time he catches you alone."

"I can take care of myself." Randy growled, looking at Morrison out of the corner of his eye.

"Randy, it's ok to ask other people for help." Morrison sighed once again, crossing his arms against his red shirt, "You know Hunter or John or…hell, even Ted or Cody or Adam would jump to help you out if they knew Barrett was doing this to you."

"Yeah, right. Look, I don't need to be bothering them with my shi—" Randy suddenly went quiet in mid-sentence, turning to look at the Shaman of Sexy, his icy blue eyes filled with suspicion, "Wait…John?"

"Come on Randy," Morrison gave him a small, knowing smile, "I'm in the room right next to you. Every time you guys fuck it's like listening to a really loud porno."

"We…we wanted to keep it a secret." Orton turned again, his eyes dropping to the floor, cheeks flushing a bright pink.

"Yeah, I got you." Morrison reached up, placing a hand on Randy's bare shoulder, "But you know he'd want to know about this. He wouldn't want you to keep this a secret…especially since he could help protect you."

"I don't need fucking protection." Randy grumbled, though his voice was already carrying the sound of defeat.

"Look, today made it very clear that you can't handle Barrett on your own—and that's ok, it doesn't mean you're weak or anything." Morrison continued eagerly, realizing that Randy was finally about to give in, "What would be worse: swallowing your pride and telling John that Wade's crossed the line…or keeping it to yourself and getting cornered by Wade _again_? Except the next time it happens I probably won't be there to help you…do you even want to think about what he would've done to you if you two were left alone?"

"If I tell John he'll probably freak out and end up doing something stupid." Randy sighed with exasperation. The elevator suddenly halted, letting out a loud pinging sound as the metal doors slid open, revealing the fifth floor. Randy and Morrison both stepped out, turning right and heading down the hall.

"You still should tell him." Morrison persisted, having to practically jog to keep up with Randy's long strides, "If he finds out you hid this from him he'll get very upset."

"Barrett's just trying to scare me." Orton hissed as they came to a halt in front of his door, "If I go crying to John about it then Barrett wins—"

"Randy." Morrison reached out, placing both hands on either of Randy's shoulders, forcibly turning the much taller man to look him in the eye, "Barrett isn't just trying to scare you. You _know_ what he was going to do to you…and you _know_ he's not going to give up. Do you _want _him to have his way with you?"

"No! Of course not!" Randy shook his head vehemently.

"Then you need to take some actions to protect yourself." Morrison dropped his hands from Randy's shoulders, leaning against the wall as Randy pulled his keycard out of his pocket, "You can start by telling John that Barrett's interested. I'm sure he'll do whatever he can to make sure Barrett doesn't get his hands on you."

"Fine, whatever." Randy huffed in defeat, sliding his card through and pushing the door open, "Are you done?"

"You promise you'll talk to John about it?" Morrison asked, giving Randy a hard stare.

"Yeah…yeah. I'll talk to him. He'll probably be asking about this anyway." Randy finished by reaching up and tapping his lip, where a drop of blood was seeping from a tiny cut.

"Ok. I guess I'll be seeing you around then." Morrison turned, heading towards his own door.

"Hey Morrison…" Randy called out, causing the other man to turn around.

"Yeah?" Morrison's brown eyes stared at him with trepidation.

"Thanks for…you know. Thanks." Orton stared down at the floor, his cheeks burning bright red.

"Anytime, Randy." Morrison gave him a wide, dazzling smile before turning around and disappearing into his own room.

* * *

As Randy entered his room, he dropped his bag and shirt to the floor, heading straight to his bed. Kicking off his Nikes, he leaped into the air, landing with a loud thump onto the soft mattress, the sheets and pillows bouncing up in the air. His face was buried in the sheets, making it a little difficult to breathe, but at that point he didn't even care. The combination of the nine mile run and getting assaulted by the leader of the Nexus made Randy feel like he wanted to go to sleep and not wake up for a week. Not only were his muscles sore and his entire body completely exhausted, but his side ached from getting punched and he had a busted lip from getting slapped. Wade had smacked him across the face with as much force as he could muster, and that stinging blow had made Randy's head rock. Reaching up, Randy tilted his head to the side, allowing him to draw his finger over the small, dried cut on his lip. Oh yeah, John would definitely be wondering about that… Fuck, what the hell was he going to tell him? Judging from the way John had reacted when he walked in on Wade touching Randy…it wasn't going to be pretty when Randy revealed that Barrett had pretty much beat the shit out of him. And he was going to do more, had Morrison not shown up… Randy didn't know what the hell was going through Wade's mind, all he knew was that things were getting worse and worse with each encounter he had with the English man.

Rolling over onto his back, Randy reached up with both hands, rubbing his eyes tiredly. He was getting so sick of this Nexus bullshit…it was bad enough when they were beating him up every day, but now he had to deal with a psychotic pervert that couldn't keep his hands to himself. Randy had thought getting smacked around sucked, but it turned out that getting felt up was a whole lot worse… Ever since Barrett had grabbed him wrists Randy couldn't help but feel like his skin was itching; dirty from Barrett's touches. It was a horrible feeling, one that made him feel sick in his gut. Even worse then feeling Barrett's fingertips on his bare skin had been when Wade shoved his groin between Randy's legs, causing his hard dick to rub up against Randy's ass. The fact that Barrett was getting off on holding him down and trying to force him had made Randy want to scream—both in rage and shame. Laying on his bed, staring up at the ceiling with frosty eyes, Randy couldn't help but blush a bright red, the burning shame coursing through his body. Wade had gotten the better of him…if Morrison hadn't shown up, he would've gotten what he wanted. That fact made Randy feel weak, pathetic. How could he have let that happen? How could he let Barrett get on top of him like that? Hurt him like that? Why hadn't he been able to escape on his own? Was he really that weak that he couldn't defend himself against slime like Wade Barrett?

Suddenly, Randy's door was being pushed open. John Cena stepped in, wearing a pale blue shirt and dark denim jeans. Droplets of water dotted his short hair, probably the remnants of a shower. John wore a small, content smile as he lazily walked into the room, Randy's extra keycard in his hand. His satisfied grin, however, dropped as soon as he saw the frown on Randy's face. After they made eye contact Randy quickly looked away, to his left, trying to hide the cut on his lip. John must've realized very quickly that something was wrong, because he gave Randy a concerned look, halting in front of the bed, his white shoes still on the carpet.

"Hey." John said slowly, his voice low and cautious as he looked down at Randy, "How was your run?"

"It was ok." Randy shrugged, sitting up, still looking away from John, "I got nine miles in."

"Nine? Damn. Sounds like a good workout." Cena continued carefully, his ocean blue eyes still fixated on the younger man.

"Yeah…it was alright." Randy shrugged again, his voice dismissive.

"So…that was it?" John placed his hands on his jean-clad hips, eyes narrowing in suspicion, "You just…ran? Nothing else happened?"

"I…um…" Randy chewed on his bottom lip, his heart fluttering in his chest. He didn't know why he was so god damn nervous all of a sudden…

"Randy, are you—" John suddenly froze, and then his jaw tightened, the muscles in his cheeks bulging as he grit his teeth, "Randy…are you bleeding?"

Before Randy could stop him, Cena reached forward, drawing his thumb across Randy's bottom lip. He pulled his hand away, the very tip of his thumb stained red.

"Why do you have a cut on your lip?" John hissed, dropping his hands to his sides, his fingers quickly curling into fists. His bright eyes had turned dark, and his easy smile had slipped into a mean scowl.

Randy didn't answer. He just looked up, icy eyes locking in on John's angry stare.

"It was the Nexus again, wasn't it?" John growled, "Who was it this time? Was it McGillicutty again?"

"No." Randy shook his head, his cheeks flushing pink as he stared down, fingertips playing with the cottony fabric of the sheets he was sitting on, "It was Barrett. He cornered me in the locker room after I was done running."

"Barrett?" John spat, sliding down to sit down next to Randy, his eyes hard, "He didn't…he didn't hurt you _too_ bad did he?"

"He…he got a little rough." Randy winced, knowing that that was the understatement of the year. Turning to his right, he pulled his legs up, kneeling on the bed, facing John.

"I swear, I'm going to fucking knock his teeth right out of his mouth the next time I see him." John snarled, "He can't fucking go around hurting people like this. I'm going to take care of this bullshit—"

"Barrett…I think he was trying to…um, he kind of…" Randy stuttered, tripping over his words. He didn't really know how to explain to John that Wade Barrett had pretty much tried to hold him down and sexually assault him.

"Barrett…he tried to hold me down and…" Randy huffed in irritation, angry with himself that he was having such a difficult time enunciating what had happened, "What I'm trying to say, John, is that…I think Barrett had more on his mind then just hurting me…if you know what I mean."

"I don't understand..." John grumbled, his knuckles turning white as he squeezed his fists so tight his nails were digging into his palms.

"He just got too close, you understand that?" Randy snapped, jerking his head up so that his angry pale eyes were glaring up at John.

"Well what the hell happened?" Cena asked, his voice growing louder with every word, pure rage coursing through his veins, "Did you…get away or something?"

Randy sighed deeply, his shoulders sagging, and then he spilled the entire truth. He told the whole story: how Wade cornered him in the locker room, how Wade got him in the gut with a cheap shot, how they ended up wrestling on the ground, how Wade somehow got on top of him, and finally how Morrison came to the rescue by convincing Barrett that if he continued to attack Randy then Hunter would get involved. Hell, Randy didn't even know if that was true anymore…he hadn't even spoke to Hunter ever since he'd left RAW. And their relationship before that wasn't even too good…hell, Randy had spent the better part of a year trying to destroy Hunter and his entire family. They'd beaten the hell out of each other for quite some time…for all Randy knew, if Morrison had called Hunter and told him Barrett was pushing him around, Hunter might not give two shits. As he came to the end of his story by describing his and Morrison's trek back to the hotel rooms, Randy couldn't help but feel exhausted. After the run and Barrett's unwanted advances—not to mention getting beat in the process—he really just wanted to curl up under his blankets and try his best to just go numb for a while. It was times like this that made Randy realize that not feeling anything at all was better then feeling nothing but pain and fear. Bowing his head, Randy stared down at the mattress as he went silent, his face burning with embarrassment. Fuck, he had no idea why he felt embarrassed…

"Randy…" John's voice was sharp and quiet as he reached out. His two thick, muscular arms wrapping around Orton's leaner frame, Cena pulled the younger man onto his lap, arms protectively encircling around him. Randy leaned into his touch, the warm hardness of John's torso pressing up against him. He didn't know why, but suddenly Randy just felt like breaking down. He wouldn't cry—he was never a crier—but in John's arms he felt like he could let loose, like he could drop the front.

"I…I don't know what would've happened if…if Morrison hadn't shown up…" Randy murmured quietly, turning to the side, leaning his head against the inside of John's bulky shoulder. That wasn't really the truth…he knew full well what would've happened, he just didn't like to think about it.

"I'm sorry." John spoke quietly, his grip on Randy's body tightening, "I should've known…after what happened yesterday, I should've known he'd try to pull something."

"It's not your fault." Randy shook his head, leaning away from John's shoulder and looking him in the eye.

"I should have been there for you." Cena growled, pulling Randy against him, "You needed me and I wasn't there."

"You're here now." Randy replied softly.

John didn't know what he meant by that, but he leaned forward and pressed his mouth against Randy's lips, hoping that was what he wanted. It must've been the right thing to do, for the next thing John knew, Randy was turning in his lap so that they were face to face. Straddling John with his thick thighs on either side of him, Randy leaned forward, pushing his tongue past Cena's lips, probing his mouth gently. John felt the wooden headboard of the bed hit his back as he leaned back, pulling Randy against him. Pressing his own tongue into Randy's mouth, John had to suppress a moan as Randy grinded against his crotch, his groin moving back and forth across the growing hardness between John's legs. They moved quickly, each undressing themselves easily, and before John knew it Randy was naked on top of him, and he was naked too. After sliding his clothes off, Randy climbed back on him. John was leaning against the headboard still, his hands holding onto Randy's hips, and then Randy was again grinding himself against John's groin, their hard cocks bumping and rubbing against each other. John pulled on Randy's hips, moving the younger man closer to him, and then he was planting light, fluttering kisses across Randy's throat, causing him to tilt his head back and sigh in pleasure. Cena latched onto his neck then, his teeth scraping gently across the hot skin high up on Randy's throat, just below his jaw line. Moving one hand across Randy's back—fingertips skirting across tight muscles—John slid his hand lower, cupping Randy's ass, his fingers kneading the soft flesh.

Biting down on Randy's neck, John's hand glided down further, and then slid between Randy's legs. With a single finger he probed at Randy's tight entrance, and then—slowly, gently—he pushed it in, causing his lover to arch his back, biting his bottom lip in a pain-filled ecstasy. Sliding his lips up from Randy's throat to his mouth, John kissed him lightly as he began moving his hand, his finger sliding in and out of Randy's tight heat with ease. Randy bucked up against him, thrusting against John's rock-hard dick with each movement of his finger, Randy's own cock bobbing against John's stomach.

"Johnny…" Randy sighed, his voice light and breezy, "Please Johnny, I want more…"

John wanted to go slow, wanted this time to be different. This time he didn't want to just fuck Randy, he wanted to make love to him. As sappy as it was, that was what Cena really wanted. Pulling his other hand away from Randy's hip, John suddenly wrapped his fingers around Randy's cock, fingertips gliding up and down the soft flesh. Orton cried out then, his hips thrusting back and forth as John's finger slid in and out of him, his other hand jerking him slowly. And then John pushed another finger inside of him, and Randy gave a high pitched moan as Cena's skilled fingers stretched him. The feeling of John's hand fisting up and down his cock was mind blowing, and combined with the two fingers pulsing in and out of his ass, it was almost too much for Randy.

"Johnny, I want you." Randy hissed. His hands were placed on Cena's hips, his finger nails digging into the hot skin there.

Pulling his hand away from Randy's ass, he placed it on Randy's hip, pulling the younger man against him, his other hand still wrapped around Randy's throbbing cock. Sitting up slightly, Randy raised his hips, positioning himself above John's aching cock. Cena saw stars as the younger man lowered himself down, his tight ass practically choking John's huge cock. Randy bit his lip, cringing in pain as John stuffed him full, but the pain didn't last long. After a few seconds of adjusting to John's impressive size, Randy began to move, his hips bucking slowly, Cena's cock sliding in and out of him. Eventually the slow pace wasn't enough, and then Randy was moaning in pleasure as he thrust hard against his large lover. Up and down his body bobbed, John's cock spearing him over and over, hitting him directly in that sweet spot. Arching his back, Randy cried out as John started jerking his dick again, fingers feverishly tugging on the smooth skin, working his thumb over the swollen head.

"Fuck, Randy!" John tilted his head back, almost seeing white as he began thrusting upward, stabbing his cock deeper than ever into Randy's ass.

As John's dick brushed up against his prostate, Randy bucked his hips even harder, fucking John for all he was worth. Crying out in pleasure, Randy came in John's hand, his cock twitching and shooting out tendrils of white liquid. The sight of Randy humping him, eyes squeezed shut as he reached his peak, was too much for John. Releasing Randy's spent dick, he grabbed onto Randy's hips, yanking him up and down, cock shoved deep into Randy's tight ass. Again and again he stuffed Randy full, and then he climaxed hard, his dick swelling up and shooting hot cum into Randy's ass. Randy collapsed on top of him after that, their stomach sliding against each other, Randy's thick thighs on either side of John's legs. They remained like that a few moments, both panting with exertion, John's face and chest flushed red, Randy's thighs trembling from the effort it had taken to ride John.

"Damn, Randy." John grinned, leaning back against the headboard, "We should have started fucking a long time ago…"

"All those wasted years in OVW." Randy smirked, leaning away from John. Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, he stood up, heading towards the bathroom to clean up.

John eyes narrowed in on Randy's swaying ass as he walked away, disappearing in the bathroom. Like always, John heard running water and the sound of Randy yanking a towel off the rack. Staring up at the ceiling, John couldn't help but think back to OVW. Shit, if he had known Randy better…they had wasted so many years being rivals, why the hell didn't they start fucking earlier? OVW would've been a lot more fun if he had Randy at his side, John thought as he continued staring up at the ceiling. Then again, they had both been hot headed, immature _boys_ back then…who knew what a relationship during those times would've turned out like. Randy was temperamental now, but back then he was just plain volatile. Either way, it didn't really matter, did it? They were together now, and John was loving every second of it. There was only one thing left to take care of…

Barrett.

He wasn't going to get away with what he did to his Randy…John would make sure of it.


	14. Predators

After what had happened at the gym, John hadn't allowed Randy out of his sight for the rest of the week. So, on the following Monday—when John received a called from Barrett, asking him to come in to RAW early—Randy straight up told John that he wouldn't go with him. He said he needed a break, needed some alone time since John had been smothering him all week, and in the end, John had to give in. He was quickly finding that, as they grew closer and closer, it was growing more and more difficult to say no to Randy. And, to make matters even worse, Randy was beginning to figure that out—all he had to do was give John those wide, pale eyes…and Randy could convince John to go rob a bank if he wanted to. The whole week they hadn't really done much other then sit around the room, watching movies and getting into silly arguments about everything imaginable. It'd been nice to just relax, but by Saturday he could tell Randy was getting claustrophobic. That was another reason he agreed to let Randy have a little time to himself when he left for RAW early; Randy was, in many ways, like a brooding predator: he didn't like to be caged in. John had been adamant about keeping an eye on Randy, and at first he could tell that Randy was loving all the attention…then he got bored. But John wouldn't budge at first; he was so sure that Barrett was going to strike again, he wasn't willing to risk letting Orton get cornered again.

And so now John found himself walking backstage of the arena, passing by mere stagehands. He had yet to see any of his fellow Superstars or Divas; then again, he was quite a bit early, even by their standards. Why Barrett wanted him to show up so early just to have a 'talk', Cena didn't know. But Wade had said that he wanted to speak one on one, so John could guess that it probably had something to do with Randy… Well, whatever it was, John was going to let Barrett know that he knew all about his attempt to assault Randy…and that he wasn't going to stand for it. All week he had been itching to hunt Barrett down, to put that bastard in his place, but Randy had asked—and eventually, begged—him to just let it be. Again, John had been unable to deny the Legend Killer, and—for the time being—he agreed not to find Barrett and beat his face into the ground. Now that Cena was about to have some one on one time with the leader of the Nexus, however, he wasn't so sure he could keep his word to Randy. Why the younger man had asked him to stay away from Barrett, he had no idea…he would've thought Randy would've wanted some revenge. When John had questioned him about it, Randy had mumbled something about not wanting to cause waves, but Cena didn't believe that for a second. He was sure it had more to do with the fact that Randy didn't want Barrett thinking Cena had to fight his battles for him…but he kept his opinion to himself.

John walked down the hallway in silence, his gym bag full of his wrestling gear clutched in his left hand. He passed a few maintenance guys, giving them a small nod of recognition, and then he finally approached the Nexus locker room. Sighing deeply, John halted in front of the door, his heart pounding in his chest. Gritting his teeth, he reached out, his hand gripping on the door handle, slowly pushing the door open and stepping in. It was a simple locker room with a green theme to it. Like most of the other locker rooms, it had showers, benches, and tall metal lockers for the wrestlers to put their gear in. Striding into the room, John's blue eyes gazed around, narrowed in suspicion, his whole body tense and ready for action. Barely a half a second after walking into the room, John scowled deeply, his eyes settling on the sole person sitting on the bench in the middle of the room.

Barrett.

The English man was wearing a black tee and jeans, looking up at John with dark eyes. He wore an arrogant, sickening grin, staring up at John with a mixture of cockiness and excitement. John's grip on his gym bag tightened as he locked eyes with the man who had attacked his boyfriend—wait, Randy wasn't really his boyfriend, was he? Well…whatever, Wade had attacked the man who John wanted to be his boyfriend, and that was almost the same thing. Either way, John had to take a deep breath to stop himself from leaping across the room and wrapping his fingers around Barrett's neck and squeezing as hard as he could. Wade was sneering at John, his eyes scanning him up and down, like he was trying to size up a rival. The thought of Wade seeing him as a rival for Randy's affection only made John even angrier; dropping his bag to the ground, John crossed his bulging arms over his chest. Barrett seemed to take that as a threat, for he stood up, his hands clenching into fists at his side, eyes darkening considerably. He took a few steps forward, stopping when he was about four or five feet away from Cena, glaring down at the shorter man with hatred.

"Cena." Barrett growled, his voice low and gravelly.

"Just hurry up and tell me what the fuck you want with me." John hissed, taking a threatening step forward.

"In due time, Cena…in due time." Wade's lips curled into an evil, toothy smile, "First…how is Randy doing?"

"You sick fuck!" John snarled, charging forward, grabbing a fistful of the front of Barrett's shirt, "You're lucky he asked me not to touch you, or I'd fucking beat the shit out of you right now—"

"It would be in your best interest to release me, Cena." Wade snapped, remaining still in John's grasp, "Do I need to remind you that I can fire you at any moment?"

"If you fire me," Cena spat, leaning in, growling right in Barrett's face, "Then you'll be fucked for Survivor Series, because you know if I'm not the ref then you have no chance of winning that match!"

"Oh, I don't know about that, Cena." Wade smirked, his voice taking a taunting tone, "I didn't have much trouble pinning him down last week, did I?"

"Fucking bastard!" John roared, shoving his hands against Barrett's chest, sending the taller man stumbling backwards. Barrett hit his back on the wall with a loud thump, laughing loudly despite the shooting pain along his spine, looking at Cena with an almost psychotic grin.

"Does that bother you, Cena?" Wade chuckled, a dark, hollow sound, "Does it bother you to know that I put my hands all over your precious little Viper? Or maybe it bothers you that he liked it—"

"Liked it? _Liked it?" _John howled in rage, his hands curling into furious fists, "You're fucking crazy if you think that—even for a second—Randy liked it! He fucking hates you!"

"You know John, I'm surprised you're behaving this way considering…well, considering everything." Barrett shrugged lightly, his eyes flashing knowingly.

"What are you talking about?" Cena huffed, placing his hands on his hips, irritation flowing through his veins.

"You mean he didn't tell you?" Barrett chuckled at that, taking a step towards Cena, his shoes sliding across the pale tile floor, "Well, I'm surprised…Randy isn't quite as selfish as I thought…"

"If you've got something to say just fucking say it." John spat, wanting to get out of there as quickly as possible. He didn't know what he would do if he had to stay in there much longer…god knows, he didn't want to get fired because he lost his cool and beat the shit out of the leader of the Nexus.

"Randy didn't tell you _why_ I decided to play around with him at the gym?" Wade raised his eyebrows, giving John a surprised, mocking look.

John went quiet at that, raising his jaw in suspicion, clenching his teeth so hard it hurt.

"The only reason I even attacked Randy at the gym," Wade's smile dropped into a frightening, crooked smile, "Was because you decided to defy me at Bragging Rights."

* * *

Randy sat on a bench in his locker room, elbows planted on his thighs, his chin resting on one of his closed fists. John had left early to come to RAW—both because Barrett had demanded him to and because he was scheduled to have one of the first matches of the night. After he left, Randy had taken a boiling hot shower, wasting almost half an hour in the water. After getting out he'd looked at his phone, panicking as he saw the time. Dressing in record speed, he hailed a cab and quickly made his way to the arena. He bumped into Morrison backstage, wasting a few minutes to allow the Shaman of Sexy to baby him, examining him up and down to make sure that Barrett hadn't left any lasting damage. After Morrison, Randy had bumped into Ted—to his surprise, they managed to have a civil conversation. Ted gleefully informed him that he was back to seeing Cody (they had separated, and Ted had rebounded with Maryse, a disaster if there ever was one), and Randy managed to swallow back any snide or sarcastic comments he would've normally made. He forced himself to smile and congratulate him, and in the end he was glad that he did that, for Ted left by slapping him on the shoulder and saying that the three of them should get together sometime. It had been so long since he'd spent time with Ted and Cody—two boys that he used to be _very_ close to—and the thought of rekindling their friendship had actually made Randy smile.

Now he was waiting in his locker room for John. The older man had told him that—as soon as he was done with Barrett—he'd rejoin him. Randy knew he should change into his gear, but for some reason he hesitated, deciding to instead sit down on the wooden bench and just take a deep breath. The week had been dull…well, that wasn't entirely true. He loved spending everyday with John; Cena was one of the few people he could spend a long time with and not get bored. He only wished John hadn't insisted on staying confined to the hotel room…they were in New York City, there would've been plenty to do. Damn Wade Barrett…just thinking about him made Randy want to rip the hair out of his scalp. He wasn't scheduled for a match tonight, but Randy was hoping that someone from the Nexus would try to pull something on him. He had some anger issues he needed to deal with, and he could think of no better way to do that then to beat the shit out of some Nexus punk in the ring. He doubted Barrett would challenge him; most likely Wade wouldn't want to risk exerting himself too much before Survivor Series. Now there was something else he didn't want to think about: Survivor Series. Sitting on the wood bench, wearing jeans and a silvery gray shirt, Randy sighed deeply as he thought about the upcoming pay-per-view He and John still hadn't discussed what they were going to do about that…it was a topic they had skirted all week long.

Suddenly the door to Randy's locker room opened, and in stepped Cena, changed into his purple and yellow ring gear. The Champ was wearing a small, sad frown, his mouth tight around the corners, his ocean colored eyes darkened like stormy waters. He walked in silently, dropping his gym bag onto the tile floor, frown deepening as he met Randy's icy stare. They remained silent for a few moments, John's darker eyes staring deep into Randy's much paler gaze. Randy's lips soon curled into a concerned frown as he sensed that something was very, very wrong. John was looking at him with such sadness Randy couldn't help but begin to panic, wondering what on earth Wade could've told Cena to make him so upset. His thoughts churning in his brain, Randy quickly tried to come up with something that would bother Cena so much…but he couldn't think of anything…

"What's wrong?" Randy asked quietly, wide eyes looking up at John, a small amount of fear in them.

Cena remained silent, eyes glaring at Randy. He almost looked…angry, Randy realized.

"John, what's wrong?" Randy repeated, his voice turning sharp.

"Why didn't you tell me that Wade attacked you because of me? Because of what I did?" Cena's voice was quiet, though it held barely controlled rage.

"I…I didn't think that mattered." Randy replied, standing up, shrugging his tattooed arms.

"Didn't matter? Didn't _matter_?" John hissed, his voice growing louder with every word, "Randy, the only fucking reason he attacked you was because of me! Because I didn't listen to him! You think that doesn't matter? What happened at the gym…it might've never fucking happened if I had just _listened_ to him—"

"Johnny," Randy's voice took on a pleading tone, "You can't listen to him. You know he would've used any excuse to hurt me, deep down it probably really didn't have anything to do with you."

John scowled, knowing that Randy was calling him Johnny because he knew that always made John go soft.

"Wade ordered me to attack you tonight." John snapped, "And he said…he said if I didn't do it, he would."

"What…what did you tell him?" Randy asked, tilting his head to the side, his eyes narrowing dangerously.

"What the hell do you think, Randy?" John sighed, clenching his eyes shut as he bowed his head, "I told him…I told him I could never hurt you…"

John reached out, his fingers grabbing onto the front of Randy's black shirt. Fingertips tugging on the black fabric, he pulled Randy against him, wrapping his thick arms around Randy's leaner frame. He was still squeezing his eyes shut as he held Orton tightly against him, their torsos pressed against each other—even when they were both wearing cotton shirts, he could feel Randy's tight stomach muscles pressed up against him. Tilting his head to the side, John pressed his lips against Randy's in a searing kiss, and then he pulled away, his eyes meeting Randy's questioning stare.

"I…I'm not done talking about this, but I have a match." John muttered, "I've got to go. Promise me you'll stay here, in your locker room?"

"Yeah, sure." Randy nodded, turning and heading back towards the bench.

"I mean it Randy." John growled, placing his hands on his hips, "Please, promise me you'll stay here."

"Yeah, I promise." Orton sighed, tilting his head down so that he was staring at the tile floor.

"Alright. I'm going to try to make it quick…I don't want to leave you alone for too long…" John turned heading towards the door, an angry scowl on his face. His meaty hand gripping the handle, he yanked it open and quickly disappeared.

Randy collapsed back onto the bench, burying his face into his hands. He had purposefully kept that little piece of information away from John…he knew as soon as John found out that Barrett supposedly attacked Randy because of Bragging Rights that John would begin to blame himself for everything. That was the problem with John: he had this hero complex, and Randy knew that the knowledge that he might've caused Randy pain was probably killing him from the inside out. But Randy really did believe what he told John: Barrett would've used any excuse to attack him, the only reason he was blaming it on John was because he knew how much it would hurt John to think that all of it was his fault. Sighing deeply, Randy closed his eyes, taking a few slow breaths. He really hoped John didn't think he would need to start obeying Wade…because that was downright ridiculous. Randy would rather take ten punches to the face then watch Cena bow down to that asshole…but there was no way in hell John would allow that to happen. Slowly opening his eyes, Randy stared at the tile floor, wondering how John's match was going. He was supposed to face Otunga, and Randy was sure John could beat that goon with his eyes closed…but, since he was from the Nexus, it was pretty likely one of Barrett's bitches would run out and try to interfere.

Maybe he should call Hunter…Randy thought, chewing on his bottom lip nervously. Maybe it would be for the best if he just swallowed his pride and asked his mentor for help… If there was one thing he knew about Hunter, it was that he was notorious for being extremely protective of those he cared about—Randy had seen that first hand when Hunter attacked him and forced him out of Evolution. Back then, Hunter had been willing to sever his connection with Randy just to put some distance between him and Dave…and Randy had hated him for it. He hated that Hunter thought he could interfere with his life like that, hated that Hunter was willing to give up their relationship just to protect him…but most of all, he hated that Hunter had been _right_. He warned Randy, demanded that he break it off with Dave, told him that Batista was no good for him, and of course Orton ignored him. Then, a few months later, Dave slapped him across the face after accusing him of sleeping around. Randy had been stupid enough to take that, but after a few weeks the slaps turned to punches, and then the punches turned to all-out beatings. Adam had been the one to help him get out of that vicious relationship, and not long after that they began seeing each other… He'd always hoped to rekindle his relationship with Hunter, but it had never really happened. He had no idea if Hunter would come to his aid, should he ask him to… But this thing with the Nexus was getting worse, both for him _and_ John…maybe it was time to get Hunter involved…and who knew? Maybe this could be his opportunity to fix things with The Game.

Really, Randy thought, his eyes tracing the lines of the tile, he did miss what he used to have with Hunter—

There was a knocking on his door, a loud booming sound of a fist knocking on wood.

Raising himself up with a grumble, Randy strode over to the door, figuring that Cena had forgotten something…or maybe Otunga had pussed out of their match… Placing his hand on the handle, Randy opened the door in silence.

He was immediately struck in the face, sending him flying backwards, landing on his side. Crying out in pain, he rolled onto his back, his hand clutching up at his cheek. He could already feel the flesh swelling beneath his fingertips…fuck, he was going to have a black eye like a mother fucker… Sitting up, Randy's eyes traveled upwards, his heart pounding in his chest as he looked to discover who it was that hit him in the face.

Barrett. And he wasn't alone…

The leader of the Nexus walked in, a sadistic smirk on his face. At his side was Justin Gabriel, the younger man wearing a cocky grin, his hands on his hips as he glared down at Randy. Wade walked in, Justin close behind him. Reaching out, Barrett placed a hand on the door, slamming it shut. Fear began to pulse through Randy's body as he narrowed his eyes, staring upward at the two men standing above him. They drew closer, taking slow, careful steps, and then they stopped, Wade taking the left side of Randy and Justin taking the right. They were staring down at him like two dogs would stare at an injured cat, surrounding them like predators surrounding their prey…

"Mmm…hello, Randy." Barrett purred, "Miss me?"


	15. No Matter What

"Mmm…hello, Randy." Barrett purred, "Miss me?"

Randy's hand was still over his upper cheek, halfway over his eye as he looked up at the two men standing over him. Panic began to flow through his veins, pulsing through his body with each thundering beat of his heart. Fuck…this was not good, not good at all. Narrowing his frosty eyes, Randy looked from Barrett to Gabriel, and then back to Barrett, swallowing thickly, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat. Barrett had a gleam in his eye, like a wolf who had just wrapped his jaws around the neck of a deer. Justin's eyes were just as evil, and he was smirking toothily down at Randy, the arrogance made clear by the way he was sneering down his nose. His chest rising and falling with each worried breath, Orton remained still on the ground, clenching his teeth together. Damn…John had only left minutes ago. Shit, this wasn't good…fuck, this wasn't good at all… John probably wouldn't be back for as long as twenty minutes! That was plenty of time for Barrett and Gabriel to do whatever it was they came to do… God damn it, Randy thought, eyes once again darting back and forth between the two men, he was in a real tight spot…especially since Barrett had taken the time to noticeably shut the door behind him. Shifting his weight from foot to foot, Gabriel placed his hands on his hips, giving a soft snicker as Barrett's dark smirk widened. Fuck, Randy grit his teeth, they could tell he was afraid…

"Mmm, I've never seen you scared before, Randy." Barrett chuckled, "But I have to admit, the look suits you."

"What do you want?" Randy whispered, glaring up at the duo. He knew the answer to that question already…he only hoped he was somehow wrong…

"I'm sure you could guess why I'm here." Wade shrugged, rolling his eyes, "Cena was supposed to attack you tonight…and, unfortunately for you, he decided to disobey me again."

"Did you really fucking think he'd hurt me?" Randy growled dryly, the tile scraping across his back, "Are you that fucking stupid?"

"Hey!" Justin kicked his leg out, catching Randy in the ribs, causing the older man to recoil, hissing in pain. "You're not really in a position to be insulting us, are you?" Justin snorted gleefully, looking down at Randy with a mixture of disdain and attraction.

"What…what's your bitch doing h-here?" Randy stammered up at Wade, wincing in pain as his body curled up on the floor, ribs aching from Justin's kick. Little shit…he was getting a power trip off of seeing Randy writhe on the floor in pain. It seemed Gabriel was just as much of a sadist as his leader.

"Well you see, Randy," Wade answered slyly, "I'm not entirely opposed to sharing…"

Barrett pulled his leg back, and then he kicked Randy in the side, the downed man yelping in pain and surprise as he felt Wade's foot make contact with his ribcage. And then Gabriel was upon him, and the younger man punched him in the gut, right in the exact spot that Barrett had kicked him. Randy screamed out in pain as Justin's knuckles smashed into his ribs, and then he rolled onto his side, trying to turn away from the two men who were attacking him. Gabriel let out a croaking laugh at that, and then he reached his hand out, fingers gripping onto Randy's short, brown hair. Orton cried out as Justin lifted him up by his hair, and then he placed another hand under Randy's jaw, forcibly turning the Viper's head towards Barrett, pulling Randy up against him. Orton felt the back of his head hit Justin's thigh, and he struggled, arms flailing out, but Justin's grip on his hair tightened, sending agonizing bursts of pain across Randy's scalp and even all the way down his neck. He went still then, panting heavily, Justin's fingers still woven into his hair, still holding onto him tightly. Baring his teeth in a furious scowl, Randy glared up at Barrett, his cerulean eyes matching Wade's chocolate stare. Along with panic and fear…he was so fucking angry. Randy couldn't believe this was happening, couldn't believe that the little punk Gabriel was daring to touch him…

"Now Randy," Wade's voice was mockingly serious, "I'm not an unfair man. If you have anyone to blame for this, it's Cena."

"Fuck y-you!" Randy snarled, choking on his own words as Justin reached around, slapping him across the face.

"Shut up!" Justin sneered as his hand made contact with Randy's bruised cheek.

The sudden impact on his swelling bruise made Randy scream again. God, it hurt so fucking bad…he was going to bruise terribly, he could already feel his skin stretching just under his eye as his flesh bulged and purpled.

"Now, as I was saying, I am not an unfair man." Barrett repeated as if nothing happened, taking a step forward so that he was barely a foot away from the kneeling Randy, "I am willing to make a deal with you, Randy, which is more then you deserve…"

"A deal?" Orton took a slow deep breath, his eyes narrowing as he glared up at Barrett with distrust.

"Yes, a deal." Wade nodded, "I think I've made it quite clear what I want—"

"You can fuck off!" Randy snarled at Wade, baring his teeth like an angry lion as he struggled against Justin's hold, "I'll never fucking touch you!"

"At this point, Randy," Barrett said, his voice turning low and angry, "You don't really have much of a choice, do you? Now, why don't you do yourself a favor and listen to what I have to offer you?"

Randy clenched his mouth shut, pursing his lips together, trying to swallow his angry words.

"Now," Wade began, reaching down and wrapping his fingers under Randy's jaw, "You're going to suck me off—"

"You're fucking out of your mind!" Randy wrenched his head away from Barrett's touch, causing Gabriel to tighten his grip to the point that Randy's pale eyes began to water. He blinked rapidly, going still, willing to do anything to get Gabriel to relinquish his hold on Randy's hair. God, if Justin didn't let go soon he was going to fucking rip Randy's hair right from his scalp…

"Randy, you aren't stupid, surely you can see that you're not going to get out of this one." Wade chuckled, this time reaching forward and drawing his knuckles across Randy's cheek, "Now, I am being kind enough to offer you a deal. I could just hold you down and violently do whatever I want to you—and then let Justin do the same. But, as I said, I am not unfair…so I am being quite generous and offering you an alternative."

Randy flinched as he felt Wade's rough fingers gliding across his smooth cheek. Fuck, this was not good…he couldn't believe he was all alone, trapped in a damn room with Wade Barrett and Justin Gabriel…shit. Randy had been in a lot of tough situations, but never anything like this.

"You have a choice, Randy." Barrett continued, pulling his hand away from Orton's face, "You can willingly suck me off…or you can try and fight, and both Justin and I will throat fuck you so hard you won't be able to speak for weeks."

"Y-you can't get away with this…" Randy said, shaking his head.

"Oh, I assure you, I can." Wade smiled, his dark eyes flashing as he gazed down at the helpless man at his feet, "Now you must make your decision, Randy: go down on me—and make it fucking good—or Justin and I will _both_ get rough with you, and we'll still get what we want."

Randy's eyes widened as his panicked mind tried desperately to come up with something, anything to get out of his situation. Just the thought of putting his mouth anywhere near Barrett's cock made his stomach tighten into knots…but he knew that Barrett wasn't joking around. If he tried to fight them, Barrett and Gabriel would beat him black and blue…and then they'd both shove their dicks down his throat. He didn't think he could take that: the humiliation of, not only Barrett forcing his dick in his mouth, but Gabriel too? Two men that he hated forcing him to suck their cocks? No, no he couldn't do it…he couldn't deal with the both of them…

"If…if I'm willing…" Randy could barely speak, his throat had gone so dry that his words felt like paper in his mouth, "Then…then I only have to do you?"

"Mmm…you are correct." Barrett's voice took on a lustful purr again, "You make it good for me—the best fucking blowjob I've ever gotten—and you won't have to worry about Justin."

"Ok…ok." Randy nodded, his head jerking up and down, adrenaline pumping through his veins.

Wade's smirk grew larger at that, and suddenly Justin released his hold on Randy's hair, causing the kneeling man to fall forward, landing with his palms on the cold tile.

"Well, Randy?" Wade held his arms apart, palms out, "I'm waiting."

Randy bit his bottom lip, and then he crawled forward on his knees, kneeling down in front of Barrett. To his disgust, Wade took a step forward so that his groin was barely inches away from Randy's face. Orton reached up then, placing a single hand on Wade's hip, leaning forward, looking up at Barrett with his pale eyes, purposefully flicking his tongue out to wet his lips.

"Mmm…" Wade growled, reaching down and placing his hand on the back of Randy's head, his finger's caressing a sensitive area on the back of Randy's neck, "Open wide, Randy…"

Randy felt an involuntary shudder run through his body as he felt Barrett kneading his fingers on the back of his neck…and then he pulled his fist back. Letting out a roar of pure fury, his fist struck out like lightning, and Wade doubled over, yelping in pain as Randy's fist connected with his gut. He hadn't been expecting the hit, and Randy had put his whole weight into it, so he stumbled backwards, both surprise and agony apparent on his face. Randy tried to stand up, his legs shaking beneath him, but he was suddenly knocked in the head. Letting out a grunt of pain, Orton fell to the ground, gritting his teeth together, reaching around with both hands to clutch the back of his skull. Gabriel had struck him, and the younger man jolted forward, his hand once again latching onto Randy's scalp, fingers weaving into his short hair and yanking back. Randy cried out in pain as Justin pulled on his hair, tugging his head backwards and forcing Randy to lean back, his shoulders connect with Justin's legs. He took a few deep, slow breaths then, his chest heaving and his head throbbing with pain. Furious blue eyes glared up at Justin and Wade as Randy struggled against Justin's hold, legs sliding across the tile floor. Justin's hold remained steady though as he dug his nails into Randy's hairline, the muscles in his arms flexing as he tried to hold the older man still.

"Oh, you are going to regret that."Wade growled, straightening up and brushing off his shirt. He had a mean glint in his eyes now, lips curled into a cruel scowl as he glared down at Randy. Reaching down, Wade's nimble fingers worked at his pants, quickly undoing the button and then sliding the zipper down…

The door to the locker room exploded open, the metal connecting to the wall with a loud bang.

John Cena stepped in, a small frown on his handsome face, clad only in his sneakers and his jean shorts. There was sweat glistening on his torso, and he was panting slightly, but as soon as he stepped in his breath caught in his throat and his ocean hued eyes widened.

Everything went still. Wade's hand still lingered at his groin, though his eyes were staring hard at John, darkening to such a degree that they almost looked black. He was standing only mere inches in front of the kneeling Randy, his hips turned toward the Viper. Randy himself was staring up at John, his eyes clouded with fear and desperation, lips slightly parted in a pain-filled grimace. Justin was completely frozen, his fingers still gripping onto Randy's hair, but Randy could feel his grip begin to loosen, Justin's hands going slack as he stared at John. Wade looked angry, but Gabriel looked downright afraid… Cena's hand immediately curled into fists, his knuckles aching he was squeezing his hands so tight.

John didn't say anything, but he raised his fist and—with a roar of pure animalistic rage—he punched Barrett in the face, his knuckles connecting with Wade's nose. The leader of the Nexus went sprawling backwards from the force of the hit, and he fell to the ground with a loud thump, his back hitting the tile floor hard. Cena was upon him quickly, pulling his fist back and striking the downed man in the stomach, pure satisfaction flowing through his veins as he heard Barrett scream out in agony. Justin must've been shocked to see John handle his lover so roughly, for he went totally still, his dark eyes widening and his mouth dropping open. Randy seized the opportunity, swirling around and shoving Gabriel in the chest with both hands. The young man hadn't been expecting the assault, and he went flying backwards into a row of lockers, crying out as his back connected with the hard, cold metal. He slid to the ground, reaching around and rubbing his back, a shaking, scared mess. Seeing that Gabriel was no longer a threat, Randy stood up, backing against a wall, heart thumping so hard in his chest he was surprised the rest of the room couldn't hear it. Cena had backed off enough to allow Barrett to stand up, and he went scrambling towards the door, not even bothering to try to reason with his forced team member. He threw Justin a glance over his shoulder, and the smaller man jumped to his feet, shoving past John and Randy and hurrying out the door. Wade followed silently behind him, but not before he turned and gave Randy one last hard look. The door shut quietly behind them, and Randy slid to the floor, holding his face in his hands, the inked muscles of his biceps tightening as he reached up.

"What the _fuck_ was that?" John howled, pointing an angry finger at Randy. The veins in his arms were bulging, and his cheek muscles were tightened in anger.

"I…I don't know…" Randy stammered, closing his eyes as he grasped his face in his hands.

"I can't fucking believe this…" John started pacing back and forth, fists swinging at his sides as his sneakers shuffled across tile, "I cannot _fucking_ believe this…"

Randy remained silent, feeling the rage radiate off of John's body like pure heat.

"Ok…ok." John went still, reaching up and rubbing his eyes with his left hand, willing himself to calm down, "What exactly happened?"

Randy swallowed thickly, his mouth dry as he dropped his hands from his face, "Wade and Justin came in…and…and…"

"Randy…" John's eyes went soft, and he took a few slow, calculated steps forward, "Randy, you can tell me what happened. Please."

"Wade told me…he told me I had to suck him off." Randy winced as he went quiet.

John blinked, and then he leaned back, his eyes going dull and hard. He turned around…and then he pulled his fist back. Randy let out a cry of surprise, jumping slightly as Cena roared like a lion and punched the lockers behind him. The metal groaned in protest, sinking in from Cena's punch. John pulled his hand away from the metal, and then he whirled around, breathing heavily as he looked down at his lover. Randy had cried out in fear when Cena hit the locker, and he looked downright scared as he looked up at the older man. His frosty eyes were wide, and he was panting, his chest rising and falling rapidly. John could feel his chest hurt as he looked down at Randy…the fact that his lover was looking up at him with fear was something he couldn't handle. Not now. Not while he had Wade Barrett on his mind…

"I…I'm sorry…" John turned towards the door, stomping out, not looking behind him as he left.

* * *

Randy was getting hurt.

When it really came down to it, that was what was happening, and John couldn't stand it. When he walked in the locker room and saw Randy on his knees in front of Wade's hips…fuck, he could've killed the English man right then and there. He was gone maybe fifteen minutes…and _still_ Barrett managed to get his hands on Randy. What if next time John wouldn't be there to save him? What if next time Barrett got his way? The thought of Wade forcing Randy into anything sexual made John's stomach roll. He couldn't let that happen…he couldn't let Wade keep on hurting his Randy. This incident had proven that the leader of the Nexus was willing to do whatever it took to get what he wanted…how could John fight that? He couldn't be with Randy 24/7…their jobs wouldn't allow it. Would he have to worry about every millisecond he left Randy alone, wondering if Barrett would finally get what he desired? Fuck…he couldn't do this. He can't allow Randy to get hurt… John was storming down the hallway backstage, his feet practically crushing against the floor as he made his way to the Nexus locker room. He couldn't let this continue, that much was clear. After seeing the fear in Randy's eyes when he punched the locker…Randy could say whatever he wanted, but the fear in his eyes made it very clear that Barrett was getting to him. That was what had killed John: not walking in to discover another man trying to force his boyfriend into a blowjob, but discovering that—when it really came down to it—his boyfriend was scared. Fuck…how could he have let this happen?

Reaching the Nexus locker room, John lifted his fist and banged on the door. There was a shuffling noise, and then slowly the door cracked open, and Cena found himself staring into the dark eyes of Wade Barrett.

"What the fuck do you want?" Wade growled, pursing his lips into an unhappy scowl.

"I want…I want you to leave Randy alone." John murmured, forcing himself to meet Wade's eyes.

"Well Cena…" Barrett's scowl curled into a smirk as he leaned against the door frame, "What are you willing to do to get me to do that?"

John hesitated, his eyes dropping to the floor. He thought of Randy then, of his pale eyes that were almost always narrowed in irritation. The tattoos on his arms, ink that John had found so exotic… John thought of the last few days he'd spent with Randy, the last few nights he'd spent with the Legend Killer. He couldn't let that get hurt…he just couldn't… No matter what he wanted, he couldn't let Randy get hurt anymore. No matter what.

"Anything." John hissed, "If you stop hurting him…I'll do anything you ask of me."


	16. RAW

He'd been dreaming.

Pale eyes shot open, and Randy sat up so quickly he almost knocked his skull on the wooden headboard of his hotel bed. Panting slightly—fuck, what had he been dreaming about?—his eyes darted back and forth, anxiously scanning the room. Thin rays of light were seeping in despite the blinds that covered the sole window in the room, proof that it was probably already well into the day. Reaching up, Randy rubbed his eyes tiredly, trying to calm his racing heart. He literally felt like he had a bass drum in his chest, his heart was thumping so loudly… He couldn't for the life of him remember what he'd been dreaming about. He was running from something, that much was clear…what that something was, he couldn't even begin to guess. Whatever it was, it must've truly frightened him, because now he was panting like he'd run a marathon. Dropping back down onto his cotton pillow, Randy squeezed his eyelids shut, trying to block out the sunlight. His AC must've been all the way on, for there was a chilly blast of air circulating throughout the room; cold enough to make Randy's flesh flare with goosebumps. Reaching down, he gripped the hem of the floral-patterned comforter that was around his waist, yanking it up to cover the rest of his torso.

It hadn't been a good night.

After John left, he had waited in his locker room for almost a full hour before coming to the conclusion that John wasn't coming back. He called him…what, four times? Four times he called John as he headed back to the hotel, and all four times all he got was a machine. He'd desperately hoped that John would be at his room waiting for him…but when Randy finally got to his hotel room, he found absolutely nothing and no one. Three more hours he stayed awake—three hours he sat cross-legged on his bed, fidgeting, checking his phone every two minutes—waiting to hear from John. At around one in the morning, he finally gave up: he'd set his phone on loud, carefully placing it on the wooden nightstand right next to his bed. He'd tossed and turned for another full hour at least before finally drifting off into an uneasy sleep. Now it was morning…and he still hadn't heard from John. What if something happened? What if Wade Barrett did something to him? What if he got cornered by the Nexus? Randy couldn't help but churn these thoughts in his brain, his stomach beginning to feel queasy as he thought of all the possibilities for why John wouldn't at least call him. Unfortunately—as he lay in his bed, sheets sticking to his warm body—he couldn't come up with any _good_ reason that Cena wouldn't have at least called… Something bad had to have happened, that much was clear. So what now? He couldn't just lay around thinking about it all day…not knowing what happened to John was making Randy feel physically ill. He had to do something, he just had to.

Sitting up again, Randy swung his feet over the side of his bed, standing up and stretching his arms high up into the air. Shuffling across the carpet floor, he headed over to the dresser on the far side of the room, quickly yanking open a drawer and pulling on some clothes. Mind still swirling with thoughts of John Cena, Randy tugged on a pair of jeans and a dark gray shirt. Walking over to his nightstand, he scooped up his phone and his wallet, taking a quick moment to check his phone…just in case. No missed calls, no text messages…nothing. John hadn't even attempted to contact him, and that single fact made Randy feel like he'd been punched in the gut. Shoving his phone and his wallet into his jean pockets, Randy reached up and gingerly drew a single finger across his cheekbone. It was pretty swollen, and already a deep purple in color. Just the light touch of his fingertips on the inflamed skin was enough to make Randy wince an instantly drop his hand. Fuck, Wade and Justin had really done a number on him…he didn't know what he was going to do if the bruise wasn't gone by the next RAW… Fucking Nexus punks. Randy couldn't help but scowl in anger as he slid his shoes on, thinking of what Wade and Justin had almost gotten away with last night. If John hadn't shown up…no, Randy shook his head, mentally warning himself not to think like that. Fuck, he couldn't take this much longer…he was going to have to do something about Wade Barrett. Maybe it really was time to contact Hunter…no matter their differences, Randy knew the King of Kings was fiercely protective of only three people in the whole world: Stephanie McMahon, Shawn Michaels, and Randy Orton. Just the thought of what Hunter might do to Barrett put a grin on Randy's face.

Striding over to the door, Randy stepped out of his room, turning and heading down the hotel hallway in silence. John had once mentioned that he was in room 336, and that was where Randy was headed. It seemed like a good place to begin tracking down Cena and finally getting some answers about what exactly happened last night. Stomach still feeling nauseous, Randy stepped into the elevator, relieved to see that it was empty. He didn't think he could deal with people right now, they'd all just stare at the bulging bruise on his face…yeah, he really didn't want to have to deal with that. Especially since he'd have to come up with some sort of plausible excuse for the mark. Feeling his stomach lurch as the elevator began to descend, Orton leaned against the metallic wall of the machines, clenching his teeth to try and keep from vomiting. Thinking of everything that had happened yesterday and thinking of what might've happened to John just made his stomach do flips…and the damn elevator certainly wasn't helping matters. Finally settling on the third floor, the doors slid open, and Randy stepped out. Heading to his right, he quickly brushed past an elderly woman—keeping careful to look away so she wouldn't see the black mark on his face. Passing by door after door, Randy's pale eyes stayed trained on the room numbers: 330, 331, 332… A few more steps and he finally halted in front of room 336. His intestines doing flips inside his body, Randy reached up and banged his fist on the white door.

The door cracked open, and then Randy found himself staring into John's blue eyes.

He didn't look good…god, he didn't look good. Cena's normally bright eyes were stormy, and they were red like he hadn't slept in days. There was a sad frown on his face, like he'd just heard terrible news. He wasn't wearing a shirt or shoes, just jeans that looked like he'd slept in them.

"John?" Randy voice felt small when he spoke, his light eyes staring hard into Cena's own gaze.

John dropped his eyes from Randy's view, choosing instead to stare at the carpet beneath his feet.

"Where the hell have you been?" Randy growled, feeling a rush of anger replace the nausea, "I waited for you forever last night and you didn't even fucking call me—"

"What do you want?" John's voice was dull, almost robotic.

"What?" Randy tilted his head to the side, not quite understanding.

"I said what do you want?" John hissed, his hands clenching into fists as they hung beside him.

"You…you fucking disappeared last night…as you ask me what do I _want_?" Randy asked incredulously, leaning forward, still trying to glare into John's eyes, "John, I was worried fucking sick about you! What the hell happened last night? Where the fuck did you disappear to?"

"Look, I really don't want to talk right now—" Cena sighed deeply, eyes glued to the floor.

"Are you fucking serious?" Randy spat, rage settling in the pit of his stomach, "You fucking disappeared on me last night! You didn't even fucking call me! After all that shit that happened last night…you didn't even call me…"

"Maybe I didn't fucking call you because I didn't want to fucking talk to you!" Cena snapped, his eyes suddenly jolting up to angrily glare at Randy.

Randy was so shocked he actually took a step back, like he'd been physically struck. They went quiet then, both of them silent for a few moments. John's eyes fell back to the floor…almost like he couldn't bear to meet Randy's gaze…

"Johnny…did I…did I do something wrong?" Randy asked quietly.

"Randy…" John swallowed thickly, his words choking in his throat, "I think…I think you should go…"

"Whatever you want, John." Randy snarled, grinding his teeth together, "Whatever you fucking want."

He turned and left, stomping down the hall before Cena could even get a chance to respond.

* * *

"_If you stop hurting him…I'll do anything you ask of me."_

"_Leave him."_

"_What?"_

"_You heard me. Leave him."_

"_I…I can't—"_

"_If you stop seeing him, I'll stop hurting him."_

Six days. It had been six days since Randy came to his room. Six days since he'd turned Randy away…

John Cena sat on a bench in the Nexus locker room, his face buried in his hands. It was Monday, a full week since he'd walked in Randy's locker room to discover Wade Barrett and Justin Gabriel assaulting him. A full week since he came to an agreement with Barrett, an agreement that was slowly killing Cena from the inside out. Ever since Randy came to his door, ever since he turned him away…he felt like he was rotting, like piece by piece he was dying. The past week had been awful, a true living hell. When Randy left that night, it took every ounce of will power he possessed to not go running after him, seize him by the shoulders and kiss him right then and there. Time inched by after that; every hour felt like a day, and every day felt like a year. By Thursday he was fighting a war within himself: give in to his desires and call Randy…or fight through his weakness and keep his word to Barrett. He probably would've given in if it hadn't been for the fact that Barrett was keeping his word. John listened carefully for any indication that Randy was getting hurt again, and every day that passed without word of the Nexus attacking Orton continued to solidify his determination to keep Randy safe…and not see him. No matter how much he wanted to be with Randy…his safety was far more important than John's selfish desires. So long as Barrett kept his word…John was going to keep his too. No matter how much it hurt to do it.

Sighing deeply, John lifted his head up, resting his chin on his hands.

God, he really did feel like shit. The look on Randy's face when he said he didn't want to talk to him…god, that look alone almost made John give up. How could he stay away from Randy? He was miserable without him, that much was clear. How much longer could he endure this? Fuck, he didn't even know how Randy was handling it… Wade had been keeping an eye on him, assigning various members of the Nexus to follow him and really make sure that he wasn't seeing Randy. Almost five times John had discovered that little rat Gabriel following him around the hotel; by Friday though, he had decided just to confine himself to his room. After all that had happened in the week, he had very little desire to go out and see people…and he really, really hadn't wanted to run into Randy. Fuck, of everything he'd done in his life, forcing himself to let go of Orton had to rank pretty high in terms of difficulty. Shit…what if Randy started seeing someone else? Just the thought of seeing another person touch Randy made John want to break something. How the hell was he going to deal with it when Randy got another boyfriend? And he would…he was Randy Orton, he could easily find a suitable replacement for John… No, he couldn't think like that! John shook his head, trying to rid himself of those troubling thoughts. He had to stick to his word, it was for the best. Maybe not for him…but for Randy it was the best.

A knocking, on the door. Soft, almost fearful.

"Uh…yeah, come in." John sat up a little straighter. He couldn't let the rest of the Nexus see him like this.

But it wasn't a member of the Nexus.

The door slowly opened, and Randy Orton walked in.

The Viper looked a mess. He walked in, leaner then ever, his jeans hanging so loose on his hips that it was a wonder they were even staying on. The black tee he was wearing was small, but somehow managed to appear baggy on his torso. Bloodshot, icy-hued eyes were staring at John, his lips tightened into a miserable frown. The horrible bruise that had marred his face last week had faded considerably, but it was still quite noticeable.

"Hey." Randy croaked, his voice hollow.

"What're you doing here?" John asked curtly, biting the inside of his cheek.

"We're scheduled to fight tonight." Randy continued, ignoring John's question. He remained where he stood, close to the door, eyes still focused on John.

"Yeah, I guess we are." Cena nodded, standing up.

"Is that all you have to say?" Orton's eyes narrowed, "A whole week…and that's all you have to say?"

"If I wanted to tell you something, I'd tell you." John muttered, a fluttering in his chest.

"You're lying." Randy shook his head, his voice growing louder, "Why are you lying to me? Why have you been avoiding me? What the hell did I do wrong—"

"Randy…" John's voice took on a pleading tone, "You didn't do anything wrong."

"Then why the hell won't you talk to me?" Orton snapped, taking a few steps forward. He was standing close to John now, his stare so intense his eyes seemed to burn with blue fire.

"It's better this way…ok?" John willed himself to remain still. God, Randy was so close to him…just another foot and they'd be touching.

"What the hell happened?" Randy inched closer, eye to eye with John, "You disappeared…then you don't want to talk to me…I haven't heard from you in a god damn week…"

John didn't answer. His eyes dropped from Randy's glare, sliding down Randy's neck, over his chest, down to his jutting hips.

"Why are you doing this Johnny?" Randy's voice was almost a whimper as he leaned forward, his lips barely inches from Cena's.

John remained silent, clenching his hands into fists, willing himself to remain still as Randy leaned even closer, soft lips so close to his own.

"Come on Johnny…I know you don't want to do this…" Randy said quietly, tilting his head so that he was looking John in the eye.

Cena reached up, placing his palm on Randy's chest and gently pushing the younger man away. He stepped around Orton, walking past him, heading towards the door. As his fingers wrapped around the silvery door handle, he paused, not turning to face Randy.

"I'm doing this…I'm doing this because I have to." Cena replied softly, eyes staring into the wooden door.

He opened the door, stepping out without another word.

Randy remained where he stood, staring at the tile floor of the Nexus locker room.

He was so fucking angry…just so god damn pissed. He had to have done something wrong…why else would John suddenly just stop talking to him? For the past week all Randy had done was lay in bed, trying desperately to get his mind off John Cena. It hadn't worked, obviously. That was why he tried to talk to John…he needed some answers, some kind of closure! He couldn't stand not knowing what the hell went wrong. Racking his brain, he had tried to come up with something he might've done to anger John. The only thing he could come up with was that maybe John didn't want anything to do with him because of Wade…maybe John thought he'd done something with Wade… But he had to know that Randy found Barrett to be repulsive, right? He had to know that Randy would never, ever willingly even touch the leader of the Nexus… Fuck, what the hell did he do to make Cena so angry with him? To make John not want to talk or even see him? And then, to make everything even worse, he shows up to Raw to discover that he's been put in a match with John. That had to be Barrett's doing. Judging from the look on John's face when Randy mentioned the match, he wasn't all that eager to be in the ring together either… Randy didn't know how he was going to deal with the match; he had some real anger going on…but he didn't want to take that out on John. Even if John was the cause of it all…fuck, what the hell did he do _wrong_?

Pulling back his hand, Randy let out a roar of pure frustration as he slammed his fist into the nearest locker. He cried out in pain as soon as his knuckles connected with the metal, pulling his hand away from the dented locker and cradling it against his chest.

"Now, that wasn't very smart, was it?"

Randy whipped around at the sound of the voice, his eyes narrowing once he saw Wade Barrett.

The leader of the Nexus was standing near the door, wearing jeans and his usual black and yellow Nexus t-shirt. He had a smug grin on his face, and he was leaning against the doorframe, staring at Orton with interest.

"Hmmm…what are you doing in the Nexus locker room?" Barrett cocked his head to the side, his grin widening knowingly.

"Don't worry, I was just about to leave." Orton muttered, dropping his hands to his sides.

"You came here looking for someone, didn't you?" Wade continued, ignoring Randy's words, "A certain John Cena, perhaps?"

"You know what?" Randy snapped, baring his teeth, "I don't want to fucking talk to you, so get the fuck out of my way and let me leave."

"You're wasting your time." Barrett shrugged, his shoulders bobbing as he remained blocking the doorway.

"Look," Randy snarled with impatience, slashing his hand through the air, "I don't want to talk to—"

"John's job is done, so don't expect him to be wasting any more time with you." Wade replied scathingly, standing up straight.

Randy fell silent at that, his glowering eyes staring at Barrett with distrust.

"What…you didn't think he was actually interested, did you?" Barrett chuckled darkly, taking a step towards Randy, "Well isn't that cute…you really thought he liked you. How adorable…"

"What the hell are you talking about?" Orton tilted his head to the side with confusion.

"Oh come on Randy…you didn't really think John Cena wanted to be with _you_ of all people, did you?" Wade snorted arrogantly, taking another menacing step towards the Viper, "You're polar opposites, enemies even. Why on earth would he want to be in a relationship with you?"

Randy didn't answer. He'd gone silent, glaring at Barrett with hatred, but unable to counter his words.

"The only reason John even began seeing you was because I ordered him to." Wade shook his head, "Now, letting him fuck you senseless…that wasn't part of the plan, but I guess, since you were so willing, John couldn't help himself…"

"You're lying." Randy hissed, forcing himself to meet Wade's eyes.

"Now that the job's over, he really has no reason to see you anymore…" Barrett went on, "That's why he's breaking things off."

Randy strode forward, reaching out and shoving Barrett out of his way as he barreled out the door.

Wade Barrett smiled as he watched the Legend Killer leave, satisfied that he was finally beginning to break the older man. Walking into the locker room, he sat down on the bench, waiting for John and Randy's match to begin.


	17. Fighting It

When Randy's music came on, the crowd went wild.

John Cena was standing in the middle of the ring, a dark frown on his handsome face, his hands resting on his hips. The familiar 'Voices' boomed through the air, causing the entire stadium to go into a wild frenzy. Children climbed on top of their seats, wide eyes eagerly scanning the floor for their Viper. The older ones screamed and clapped, bouncing up and down, proclaiming their infatuation for Randy Orton. Despite the heavy feelings circulating in his mind, John had to suppress a smile. He remembered not too long ago when Randy was easily the most hated heel in the entire company…he was just so very good at being bad. Technically everyone in the company could be a potential heel or a potential face—he, John Cena, was perfect proof of that. But there were some who easily leaned more toward one or the other; Edge, for example, did a great job as a face…but nobody could deny that—when it really came down to it—he was born to be a heel. Randy was like that as well. Maybe it was the piercing, haunted blue stare he could give that would make toddlers shiver in their seats. Or maybe it was the black drawings of skulls that lined his arms. Perhaps it was even the way Randy had perfected his cold sneer, pursing his lips into a dark scowl that made him look meaner then hell. Whatever it was, Randy had always had the look of a heel…and he'd played the part admirably.

When the Legend Killer stepped into view, his chiseled body shining with baby oil, the already thunderous crowd grew even louder. The cheers, whistles and claps grew so deafeningly loud that John could feel the ring vibrating beneath his sneakers. Funny how just a year ago Randy and his Legacy were the most hated trio in the WWE…now Randy's popularity was rivaling John Cena himself. No doubt it had something to do with the fact that Orton was the single competitor who was refusing to back down to the Nexus… An infuriated scowl on his face, Randy began striding forward, approaching the ring slowly as his music roared throughout the stadium. John gave a dry swallow, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat as Randy drew closer and closer. There was a sadness in Randy's pale eyes that John desperately hoped the cameras couldn't pick up. His own stomach was churning as he stared Randy down, willing his lover to meet his gaze. Orton, however, was staring into nothingness, his eyes a blank canvas. Were it not for the tightened muscles in Randy's jaw, it would be impossible to tell how upset he was. Walking up the steps into the ring, his hips swaying in a tantalizing motion that Cena couldn't help but stare at, Randy pulled off his championship belt, handing it to the ref. Turning his back on John, Randy stretched his shoulders a little, cocking his head to the side, his jaws still clenched shut.

"Randy?" John spoke so softly that not even the ref could hear him. Randy could, however, judging from the way he tensed up, the muscles in his back flexing. He chose to ignore John, though, refusing to turn around and face him.

And then the bell sounded.

Randy turned slowly, his whole body slumping slightly, like he was incredibly tired. His eyes finally rose up to meet John's stare, and as soon as they made eye contact John could feel his stomach drop. He might as well have been staring into blue fire; such was the rage and hurt that filled Randy's baby blues. Even though the crowd was still cheering, John could not hear them. He was standing there—in his jean shorts and sneakers—wanting nothing more than to grab Randy by the shoulders and shake him until he understood why John did what he did. But he couldn't do that…they had to fight, for fuck's sake. This was Barrett's idea of a sick joke, John knew. To make Randy and John fight after he forced John to leave him…only Barrett could do something so cruel.

"Randy…" John sighed, his thick shoulders heaving as he took a step toward Orton, "I'm sorry…I'm so sor—"

Randy's hand curled into fists as he scowl dipped into a toothy snarl. Reaching up, he pushed his hands into John's chest, causing the crowd to gasp in surprise as he shoved Cena roughly away from him. John barely had time to register the shock before he stumbled backwards, just barely regaining his footing as his sneakers slid across the flat ring floor.

"Stay the fuck away from me!" Randy hissed, his hands still clenched into angry fists. He was leaning forward, glaring at John with pure hatred, daring the older man to make a move.

"Randy, please just listen to me—" John took a ginger step forward, reaching his hand out and just barely grazing his soft fingertips on Randy's bicep. That, it turned out, was a big mistake. Orton let out a howl of disgust and jerked his body away, baring his teeth in a furious growl. Barreling his body forward, Randy suddenly slammed himself into John, the crowd roaring in approval as Cena was knocked off his feet. Orton rushed forward then, preparing to drop an elbow on John's nose, but Cena managed to roll to the side, leaping nimbly to his feet. Grunting in effort, John reached out and wrapped his hand around Randy's wrist, effortlessly tossing the taller man over his shoulder and onto the ground. Cena couldn't help but wince noticeably as Randy's back connected with the floor…he hated hurting his Viper. Even if it wasn't real. But deep down he knew that—no matter how angry Randy was with him, he would always put his job first. They had a show to put on, and neither John nor Randy would be willing to allow their differences to compromise their performance in front of the fans. Both of them cared way too much for that to happen…

Randy scrambled to his feet, the crowd egging him on with chants of R-K-O. Straightening up, he glared at John with rage, his entire body tense with fury.

"Randy please listen!" John yelped as he ducked out of the way of one of Randy's punches, "I'm sorry…I'm so fucking sorry—"

This time he didn't move fast enough and Randy's punch caught him in the gut—_hard_. Crying out in pain, John crumbled to the ground, clutching his abdomen.

"What the hell Randy?" John groaned, biting his bottom lip as he looked up at the man standing over his kneeling body, "That…that fucking hurt!"

Randy responded by pulling his leg back and then launching it out against John's chest, easily knocking all of John's breath out from inside him. Heaving with effort, trying desperately to inhale some oxygen, John struggled back onto his knees, barely able to believe that his lover was hurting him like this. The crowd loved it, however, for the thunder of their applause had grown even louder than before.

"Randy back off!" John coughed, his pleading eyes looking up at Orton, "You're hurting me—"

"Shut the fuck up!" Randy roared, "You deserve it!"

"Randy, I'm sorry, I really am…" John protested as he climbed to his feet, careful not to make a threatening move toward his opponent, "I had to…I couldn't stand by and watch him hurt you any—"

"Fuck you!" The Viper screamed, taking a menacing step towards John, "I didn't fucking do anything to deserve this! Barrett's a bastard…but _you_! I…I never…"

Randy seemed to choke on his words, his voice catching in his throat.

"I never…I _never_ would've thought you'd do something like this…" Randy finally spat, "You…I…I thought we…how could you fucking do this to me? I…I know we weren't friends…but fuck John! I never would've thought you'd fuck with me like this! This is just…this is fucking disgusting! How could you play with me like this?"

With every word he spoke, Randy's voice cracked more and more, his eyes darkening to the point that they looked like two stormy blue oceans. He was breaking, John could see that now…with a fluttering in his chest, he realized that Wade Barrett was finally beginning to accomplish what he had set out to do weeks ago…Randy Orton was breaking right in front of John's eyes, right in front of millions of viewers, right in front of a live audience. John could feel confusion and a sick dread building up inside him…Randy wasn't making much sense, what was he talking about? John's head was swirling with a mixture of emotions…confusion, hatred, love, anger, sadness…fuck, he felt like his brain was ready to explode as he stood there, his eyes softening as he realized that Randy's eyes had turned red with emotion.

"Randy," John spoke quietly, his voice raw with hurt, "I…I don't know what you're talking about—"

"Shut the fuck up…" Randy shook his head, his words sounding like a groan of pain, "I know…I know none of this was real, ok? You can fucking stop pretending…"

"What are you talking about?" Cena held out his hands with his palms out, disbelief washing over him like ice water.

"Barrett fucking told me!" The rage was back in Randy's voice as he shouted, "He fucking told me you…you only did this because he ordered you to! I don't…I don't know how you could do this to me…I never did _anything_ to you to deserve this!"

"What the hell did he tell you?" John roared suddenly, his meaty hand curling into huge fists as he took a step towards Randy, blue eyes wide and fearful.

"I don't know why you did this…" Randy's voice grew into a quiet, low whine as his eyes dropped to the floor, "I thought…I thought it was real…I really did. Fuck…can you believe I'm that fucking stupid?"

"I don't know what Barrett told you," Cena hissed, "But it was a lie, Randy…whatever the hell he told you, it was a damn lie!"

"F-fuck you…" Randy reached up, discreetly wiping his eyes as he turned away from John.

He walked out of the ring as the crowd booed furiously, disappearing from view quickly.

John knew he should've done something to appease the crowd, but he didn't care. He had far more important things to worry about. Taking a running start, Cena leaped over the top rope, landing on the ground and sprinting up the ramp. Vince was going to be pissed about their performance, but at this point John didn't even care. He had to make Randy see the truth, he just had to.

* * *

When John burst through the door, Randy was sitting on a bench, his head in his hands. He hadn't even bothered to change out of his ring gear, leaving most of his tan, lean body open to John's eyes. When Cena strode in, his hands in tight fists at his side, Randy looked up, his lips twisted into an infuriated grimace. Other then the lone man sitting on the bench, the locker room was quite bare. Smooth blue carpet brushed beneath John's Under Armor sneakers as he took a few steps forward, his eyes glaring at Randy with such intensity that the sitting man had to look away. He didn't like the way John made him feel when he stared at him…almost like he was being x-rayed from the inside out. Like John could see right through him…see how fucking stupid and worthless he really was. Oh, Randy was angry at John, but he was angrier at himself. How could he have been so fucking stupid? Did he really think someone like John—who could have anyone he wanted—would ever really be interested in Randy? God, he was so damn stupid… Beneath the anger was black shame; shame that he had fallen for such a trick, shame that he had allowed Johnny to see the real him… He was infamous for shutting people out, and now…the one time he was stupid enough to let someone in…they go and make a fool of him. Fury and shame were bubbling inside Randy's gut, churning over each other, making him feel like rushing to the bathroom and puking his intestines out.

John was standing before him, also still in his ring gear. His lips were pursed into an uncomfortable frown, and Randy could feel those sapphire eyes scanning him up and down, could feel them almost like someone had thrown a blanket on him…all over his body…everywhere all at once… He fidgeted under John's gaze, keeping his own eyes stubbornly focused on the ground. Fuck, they had completely screwed up the match out there…Vince was not going to be happy. Hell, the fans were probably demanding that they come back out and finish the fight… Ha. Randy had to suppress a dark laugh. What if the fans knew the truth? That their beloved Chaingang Soldier had wooed the pants off of the Legend Killer himself…literally. They'd probably be appalled and disgusted if they knew the truth…and they'd all probably laugh at Randy for being so fucking stupid…

"Randy…look at me." John's voice was rough around the edges, his words clipped and tight.

Orton refused, choosing instead to focus his pained stare on the carpet beneath his feet. To his horror, John stepped toward him, reaching out with his hand. His fingers wrapped beneath Randy's jaw, forcibly angling Randy's face upward. Sky met the ocean as their eyes connected, and then Randy wrenched his head from John's grasp, standing up and stumbling away from the older man, almost tripping over his own feet.

"Randy please—" John began exasperatedly, reaching up and rubbing his tired eyes.

"No…no, fuck you!" Randy snarled, pointing an angry finger at John, "Why the fuck should I stand here and listen to you after…after everything you've done to me?" He took a few steps back, his feet carefully stepping across the carpet, fearful eyes stuck on John.

"Randy, whatever the hell Barrett told you was a lie!" Cena said, impatiently shaking his head as he took a slow step toward Orton, "He's trying to mess with your head…I swear, whatever he said I did, it's a lie!"

"Why should I believe you?" Randy howled, leaning towards John, his rage causing him to not back down, "It all makes fucking sense now! This whole time you've only fucking gotten close to me because Barrett told you to! You don't give a shit about me! You don't fucking care about anything!"

"Don't say I don't care!" John growled, taking another step forward. Now they were close, barely a foot apart, Randy almost naked, and John with so much pure anger pumping through his veins…like fire flowing through his body.

"Fuck you! Fuck all of this!" Randy reached his hands up and harshly pushed John in the chest, his hands thumping against John's abdomen almost like he had tried to shove a wall.

"Don't push me, Randy!" Cena snarled, his hands twisting into fists, "And don't you fucking say I don't care!"

"You don't give a shit about me!" Randy repeated, picking up his hands and letting out a cry of anger as he shoved John in the chest again, his fingertips brushing roughly against John's bare chest.

"Stop fucking saying that!" John roared, this time picking up his own hands and pushing Randy in the chest. The younger man let out a yelp of surprise as he was shoved backwards, his back connecting with the metal locker, causing a loud, metallic clang to sound out.

"You…don't…fucking…_care_!" Randy spat out each word with pure venom, reaching up to once again push the much larger man in the chest.

This time, however, something in John snapped.

He grabbed Randy by the wrists, causing him to cry out as John's fingers wrapped around his limbs, squeezing tightly. Growling loudly, John shoved Randy against the locker hard, causing the younger man to cry out in pain. Randy didn't have time to react before John leaned forward, pressing his mouth against Randy's, shoving his tongue into Orton's mouth. The Viper was so surprised by this act that he froze up, eyes wide as John's lips tore at his own mouth, tongue probing forward, his teeth scraping against Randy's soft lips. John held Randy's wrists in place even as the smaller man came to his senses, squirming, fighting against John's touch, his hips swaying back and forth, abdominal muscles flexing and tightening with each movement. Cena growled as he sensed Randy's resistance, and he shoved his hips forward, thrusting his groin between Randy's legs, his teeth still biting on Randy's bottom lip. Randy let out a howl of protest as he felt John's thick erection stabbing him between his legs, pressing against him, begging for attention. Despite the rage he felt, Randy couldn't help but roll his hips forward, grinding his crotch against the bulge in Cena's pants. John couldn't help but growl in pleasure as he felt the tip of his dick push up against Randy's own erection, and he thrust his hips back and forth, loving the hot feeling of his cock brushing up against Randy's, the friction practically causing him to see white.

John moved his lips away from Randy's mouth, then, sliding down to his neck and latching on. Randy's roar of anger soon turned into a low, guttural moan of pleasure as John began sucking on his neck, his teeth scraping against his hot skin. Randy's back rubbing against the cool metal of the locker John had him pressed up against, John pushed their hips together, thrusting back and forth, loving the feel of the hardness between his legs stabbing against Randy's groin. Pulling Randy by his wrists, John suddenly let go of Randy's neck. His fingers gripped tight around Randy's limb, he yanked the younger man toward the bench, pushing him roughly, forcing Randy to bend forward, his upper body laid out over the bench, tight ass high in the air. Randy didn't fight back as John reached forward, his fingers gripping the fabric of Randy's trunks, pulling them down so fast that Randy didn't even have time to react. Only when John's released one of Randy's wrists, reaching down and yanking down his zipper, did Randy finally seem to register what he was about to do. He struggled a little, his perfect round ass writhing in the air as John reached into his jean shorts, pulling out his rock hard dick. Reaching up with his free hand, John spit and then rubbed his cock, suppressing a moan of pleasure as he rubbed his hand up and down his own dick.

Randy's struggling grew more frenzied, causing John to snarl impatiently. Reaching forward with both his hands, he grabbed Randy's wrists, pinning them down on the bench, forcing Randy's lean, muscular body to bend over the wood, leaving his vulnerable ass high in the air, his tight, pink heat open to John's view. Randy let out a howl of protest as he felt the thick head of John's cock brush up against his entrance, but John held him still, pushing his hips forward. The throbbing tip of John's dick pushed into Randy's ass, causing the younger man to whine in pleasure, and then John let out a lustful growl before shoving his hips forward, burying his dick inside Randy's tight heat. Orton moaned in pleasure and pain as John yanked himself back out before shoving right back in. He began a vigorous pace then, stabbing his huge cock in and out of Randy's ass, his hips rolling back and forth as he fucked Randy so hard his balls were slapping up against Randy's thighs. Any type of resistance in Randy had been snuffed out, for he was backing into John's thrusts, shoving his ass backward, meeting each of John's stabs with his own thrusts.

Cena's dick was sliding in and out of Randy with a slick wet sound, and then he was thrusting so hard and so deep that Randy began arching his back up, whining in pleasure. John threw his head back; his face flushed deep red as his cock buried deep inside of his lover. And then he reached around, his hand grabbing Randy's swollen dick. Within a few jerks Randy came in his hand, his dick shooting spirals of hot, white liquid, his ass convulsing around John's cock. Placing his hands on Randy's hips, John yanked the younger man against him, his cock stabbing deep and hard into Randy's ass. Feeling the heat building between his legs, John dug his nails into Randy's skin, pulling on his hips, thrusting his cock in and out of Randy's ass. He came hard, his cock spurting cum deep into Randy's ass, his balls smacking up against Randy's groin as he finished with a few more quick, hard thrusts. His body completely spent, John pulled himself out, collapsing on top of Randy's panting, hot body. They remained like that for a few moments, John's thicker body stretched out across Randy's tanner frame, both of their chests heaving with effort, both of their faces a bright pink, both their bodies bent over the wooden bench. An awkward silence filled the air then, with Randy choosing to stare at the floor, his body covered and sweat and cum staining his ass. John stood up, looking down at the spent man beneath him, his ass bright red.

"Randy…" John's voice was quiet, yet Randy flinched noticeably at the sudden break in the silence.

"You should go." Randy murmured, remaining on the ground, facing away from John.

"Randy, please don't—" Cena pleaded, still staring down at the naked man before him.

"Just go." Randy repeated, still refusing to turn and meet John's eyes.

Cena reached down, zipping his shorts back up, and then he turned, walking out the door.

* * *

**I apologize for how long this has taken me. I hit a bout of depression after my husband deployed to Afghanistan and couldn't for the life of me write or read or focus on anything really...but I seem to have FINALLY pulled myself out of it! Expect another update to this within a week. Not much more to go...just a few more chapters left and then I'll be starting on a new project!**

**Also, I got a new poll up! Please go check it out!**


	18. Survivor Series

Randy sat on the bench in his locker room, his head in his hands. His eyes were clenched shut, fingers resting on his forehead, and ache in his chest like he'd never experienced before. It was Sunday…Survivor Series. He hadn't seen or heard from John since their encounter at RAW…and frankly, Randy was glad for that. He didn't think he could look John in the eye after what had happened. Nothing had made him feel more worthless, more pathetic then when he'd eagerly allowed John to fuck him in the locker room. Was he really so pathetic that he'd allow John to fuck him—even after everything that had happened? Gritting his teeth together, Randy shook his head, trying to take slow, steady breaths, trying desperately to calm himself down. He'd already changed into his black ring gear: his trunks and wrestling boots were chafing at his skin, making him feel hot and itchy despite the small amount of clothing he was wearing. The entire week had gone by in a flash, leaving Randy's head swirling with a mixture of emotions. Glancing towards his right, Randy winced as he saw the gleaming WWE Championship belt resting in his gym bag. This was it…wasn't it? The last night he'd have the championship…after this match it would belong to Wade Barrett. Just the thought of that slime being crowned WWE Champion was enough to make Randy's stomach churn into thick knots. How had it come to this? How had he allowed himself to be taken advantage of? He should've never let Johnny get so close…he should've never trusted him… The muscles in his jaws flexing as he grinded his teeth, Randy stood up, the sinewy muscles in his back flexing as he bent down and picked up the WWE belt. Pursing his lips into a sad scowl, he headed towards the door, his shoulders heavy with doubt.

Wade Barrett had slipped away from his followers, finding himself leaning against the bumpy drywall of an empty locker room. His heart was thumping in his chest, pure giddiness flowing through his arteries like thick blood. Tonight was the night…tonight was _his_ night. All damn week he had been waiting for this…waiting for the night that would _finally_ bring all of his plans to fruition. For weeks he had been planning for this, thinking of nothing else but getting his championship, and now the time had finally come. Tonight he would beat Randy Orton into the ground, tonight John Cena would earn his keep and count to three for Wade, tonight he would raise that belt in the air and gloat as all the fans hissed in rage. Oh yes, he was greatly looking forward to the looks on the fans' faces as he crushed their WWE Champion… Smiling to himself, Wade straightened up, leaning away from the wall, folding his arms across his chest. Once the belt was taken from him, Randy Orton would no longer be a threat…even better, once John counted against him, Randy would never trust the Chaingang Soldier again. He would be weak, doubting himself, and—best of all—left all alone with no one to protect him. After Survivor Series, the Nexus would rule Monday Night RAW, with Wade Barrett as their leader. And the first thing he'd demand as ruler would be Randy Orton… Wade's smile curled into a dark smirk at the thought of forcing the current WWE Champion to bend to his will… Once Cena was fully under his control, once he'd completely broken Randy and made him his…there'd be nobody left in the WWE to oppose him. Turning to head towards the ring, Barrett puffed his chest out arrogantly, daring anyone to deny him. Tonight was his, and no one was going to change that.

It'd been almost a full week since he'd seen Randy, John realized as he slipped the black and white referee shirt over his head. After the locker room incident…John had hurried back to his hotel room, locking himself in, trying his hardest not to punch a couple holes in the wall. He had lost control of everything, Cena thought as he shook his head, pulling the shirt down and across his stomach. He was standing in the Nexus locker room by himself—thank god. Who knew where Barrett and the others were, honestly John didn't give a shit. He didn't want to see anyone from the Nexus, didn't think he could handle their gloating. He didn't know how everything came down to this…didn't know how something so good had turned bad. The short time he had spent with Randy had been wonderful…how had he allowed someone like Wade Barrett destroy that? The week after RAW had been hard…at least ten times he thought about calling Randy, thought about pinning the younger man down and explaining everything, forcing him to see the truth… The only thing that had stopped him had been the fact that he knew Randy would want to focus on his match at Survivor Series. He wouldn't want John making things more difficult for him… Well, John thought as he reaching out for the door handle, after tonight he was going to fix things with Randy. He couldn't let it end like this…hell, he didn't want it to end at all… Pulling the door open, John walked out. Wade and Randy would already be out in the ring as he got into the gorilla position, and that made John's breath catch in his throat. The thought of Randy being anywhere alone with Wade—even in front of millions of viewers—frightened him. The leader of the Nexus was unstable…who knew what he would try to do to Randy if given the opportunity…

* * *

When his music played, it took every ounce of his will power to walk out.

The stadium erupted as John made his way down the ramp, a black frown on his handsome face. The fans seemed unable to decide what they thought of him in his striped referee shirt, for some were jeering, booing, sneering down at him with a hatred. A good amount were cheering however, chanting 'Never give up!', smiling down at him. Seeing the 'You can't see me!' signs in the audience made John grimace almost like he'd been physically struck. How could his fans still believe in him after all that had happened? Their unflinching faith in him was inspiring, and at a better time it would've made him smile widely, but after everything that had happened this week… Shuffling his feet slowly, John walked down the ramp, his eyes stuck on the two men before him. Randy was standing in the far corner, pale as a sick ghost, his eyes cloudy and devoid of any pleasure. To John's dismay, Randy wasn't watching his entrance. No, the Viper's stare was coiled around the leader of the Nexus. Barrett was standing in the opposite corner, a confident, disgusting smirk plastered across his face, reaching down and adjusting the laces in his boots. Lights flashing as his music boomed through the air, John continued down the ramp, trying his best to ignore the thunderous booing. Both Randy and Wade turned to stare as he climbed into the ring, reaching with his arm and pulling himself up effortlessly, his biceps rippling.

He froze as he climbed over the ropes, eyes stuck on Randy Orton, willing the Legend Killer to look at him, to meet his gaze. Randy turned away from him, however, his tan, lithe body giving John the cold shoulder.

"Cena." Barrett growled, directing the referee's attention back to him.

John scowled at the sound of Wade's voice, refusing to turn to his so-called leader. "Let's get this over with." He hissed, heading towards the middle of the ring.

Reaching his arms out, John signaled to the men at the ringside. Almost immediately the bell sounded out, the high pitched ringing striking through the air like lightning. Some of the fanfare died down, then, the men, women and children's eyes going wide as they stared down into the ring. Randy and Wade began circling each other like caged tigers; the Viper taking careful, calculated steps, his eyes narrowed and focused on the taller man before him. Barrett looked far more arrogant, tilting his chin up, smirking down at Randy, completely at ease with himself. They moved around each other slowly, with John standing in the far corner, his heart thumping so hard in his chest that the sound dulled out the noise of the crowd.

Wade struck first, of course.

He rushed forward, his lanky body making it all the way across the ring in less then two strides. He moved so quickly that he took Randy by surprise, catching the older man with an uppercut to the jaw. Cena cried out in anger as Randy was knocked off his feet, crashing to the ground on his back. Barrett made to kick him then, causing the crowd to roar in disgust as the heel of his boot came crashing down on Randy's exposed ribcage. Orton screamed in pain at that, quickly rolling to the side, his body sliding across the flat ring floor as he dodged a second kick from Barrett.

"Running away are you?" Barrett scoffed loudly.

"Shut up!" Randy growled as he stood up, his hands readily clenched into fists.

Orton leapt at Barrett, the crowd screaming in approval as he clotheslined Wade to the ground, literally knocking the smile right off his face. Randy jumped into the air, launching his knee out to catch Barrett in the gut. Screams of outrage echoed throughout the stadium as Wade rolled away, jumping up and turning his body in the air, his foot spinning around and slamming into Randy's temple. Orton cried out in agony, staggering to the left, reaching up and clutching his head with his hand. Barrett wasn't one to waste a good opportunity, he rushed forward, wrapping his arms around Randy's waist and swinging him into the air. The Viper fought back, clawing at Barrett's hold, but he was still dazed from getting knocked in the head, and his attacks were useless. Wade held him in the air for a moment before turning his head to the side, smiling widely at John.

"No!" Cena howled as Barrett dropped Randy, slamming his body onto the ring floor.

Randy's body curled up as he lay on the floor, writhing back and forth, the muscles twisting under his skin.

"Aw, that looked like it hurt…" Barrett sneered, taking a step towards the downed man.

He picked up his leg and let it hover above Randy's chest for a brief moment, savoring the twisted expression of pain on Orton's face. Grunting in effort, Wade dropped his foot down, planning to stomp Randy right in the sternum. To his shock, Orton somehow rolled to the side, picking up his foot and striking out. Barrett screamed in pain as Randy's foot collided with his shin, the very force of the impact sending numbing shockwaves up Wade's leg. The fans stood up in their seats, screaming madly as Randy scrambled to his feet, blue eyes flashing with hatred. Barrett jumped up and down on one leg, reaching down toward his shin, biting his bottom lip so hard he was drawing blood. Randy gave him no pity; he let out a roar of fury and ran forward, jumping through the air and spearing Barrett in the gut. The duo went tumbling toward the floor, with Randy landing on top of Wade, his hard thighs on either side of Barrett, pinning him to the ground. Pulling back his fist, Randy struck out, punching Barrett in the jaw so hard that the pinned man's head snapped back with a nasty jerk. Orton didn't stop there, he punched Barrett again and again, his legs holding the squirming man tightly down and he rained his fists down on Wade's face.

The audience cheered enormously, sadistically encouraging Randy to continue his onslaught. The Legend Killer gleefully gave them what they wanted, a haunted, toothy smile breaking across his face as his knuckles knocked Wade in the teeth.

Randy was so caught up in exacting his revenge on Barrett that he didn't notice John Cena standing in the corner. Cena had begun pacing across the ring, conflict cutting into his chest like a knife. Barrett was screaming his name, his words coming out as moans of pain as Randy hurt him, but his desire was clear: he needed John's assistance. But if John stepped in now…Randy was mere moments from winning, John couldn't help Barrett without costing Randy the win… But if he didn't stop Randy then Wade would surely fire him…he'd be furious after the beating he was currently receiving… Swallowing thickly, John winced with every punch that Randy stuck Wade with, knowing that every second he wasted would add to Barrett's anger… But he couldn't hurt Randy like this, he just couldn't! The championship was everything to Randy…how could John step in and allow it to be handed over to a monster like Barrett? Every fiber of John's morality screamed at him to turn the other way, to allow Randy to eliminate the parasite that was the Nexus…he'd be doing WWE a favor, all the superstars and divas would breathe a sigh of relief if Randy finally put Wade down… But WWE was John's life! He couldn't get fired, he couldn't leave the WWE like this—a pathetic slave to the Nexus! He couldn't go out like this! John was nothing without the WWE…he would not allow himself to be shamed into retirement because of Wade Barrett and the damned Nexus!

John jumped forward, sliding his hands under Randy's arms and yanking the smaller man into the air, easily tossing him halfway across the ring.

"You…!" Randy snarled as he landed on his side, bouncing once and then hitting the ring floor hard.

"You know I couldn't let you do that, Randy." Cena said, trying to keep his voice calm, holding out his hands in a peaceful gesture.

"Fuck you!" Randy yelled, climbing to his feet, his eyes wide with rage.

"Randy, please calm down…" John said slowly, trying to ignore the cries of rage from the crowd, "You were about to get yourself disqualified—"

"You fucking selfish piece of shit!" Orton roared, baring his teeth in an infuriated snarl, "You know what he'll do if he wins! You want him to fucking run this company? You want the Nexus to own everyone here? All because you don't want to lose your fucking job? You'll let him hurt everyone just to save your own ass? Fuck you!"

"Randy…this is my life!" Cena cried out, reaching up and running a hand through his buzzed hair, "What would I do without this? Who would I be without this? I can't…I can't let them end me like this…"

"Well congratulations John!" The Viper spat, his pale eyes going icy, "You won't be known as the guy who got kicked out of the Nexus…no, now you'll always be known as the man who let the Nexus take over the WWE! You'll always be fucking known as the man who put himself first! Everyone's going to remember you as the Nexus's bitch! Is that what you want?"

"S-shut up!" Cena stammered, hands curling into threatening fists. The crowd was getting curious now, the fans leaning on the edges of their seats, trying to decipher what it was that was getting John Cena so clearly agitated.

"Why?" Randy hissed, leaning forward and sneering at John, "Too afraid to hear the truth?"

"I said shut up, Randy!" John shouted, taking a step toward the younger man, his eyes flashing dangerously.

"No!" Randy snapped, slashing a fist through the air with emphasis, "You need to know what your—"

It happened so fast John didn't even have time to react. Randy suddenly went flying through the air, screaming in pain and surprise as he landed on his stomach. Barrett was standing over him, scowling deeply, his face contorted into an expression of pure hate. Grunting, he pulled his fist back and struck out, his hand snapping right into Randy's jaw. The force of the punch was so strong that it launched Randy into the air again, this time causing him to land on his back.

"What the hell are you doing?" Cena cried out, rushing to Randy's side. He fell to his knees, reaching out and placing a hand on Orton's bare shoulder, causing the injured man to moan in pain. The crowd had gone eerily silent at Cena's actions, suddenly sensing that the match had taken a darker, more sinister turn.

"I am winning this match, Cena." Barrett replied calmly, "What the hell are you doing? Get away from him and let me end this."

John turned, looking down at Randy. Orton's normally handsome face was marred with a sickening purple bruise on his jaw and a small cut over his left eyebrow, a bump that was already beginning to swell…

"You don't need to hurt him anymore!" John shook his head, looking up at Barrett's towering form, "This is enough! Just pin him and be done with it!"

"I will do what I want, Cena!" Wade roared suddenly, losing his cool demeanor as he was practically spitting with anger, "Now do as I say and get the fuck out of my way!"

"No!" John howled, standing up.

He couldn't do this anymore…he couldn't let himself become a pathetic pawn to be used by the Nexus! Randy was right…fuck, he was so right… Letting out a roar of rage, John rushed forward, fists in the air. Barrett was caught by surprised as John's fist suddenly rammed into his cheek, knocking the leader of the Nexus off of his feet. The crowd went absolutely insane, shouting and cheering so loud that the entire stadium vibrated. Both the announcers were on their feet, spitting into their mics as fast as they could as John stood above the fallen Barrett. He had done it…he'd broken away from the Nexus…and damn, did it feel so good…

"Are y-you..._fucking_ k-kidding me?" Wade stammered as he attempted to stand up, swaying back and forth, his entire skull throbbing in pain.

Neither John nor Wade had noticed a certain Viper crawling to his feet, but the audience did, and the last thing Barrett heard before feeling Randy's fingers grip his head was the chant of R-K-O…

Randy had leapt up with incredible speed, his entire body going horizontal as he grabbed Barrett by the head and slammed him to the ground. The stands erupted at that, getting louder only when Randy went for the pin, draping his body across Barrett's, allowing himself a small, satisfied smile. Cena dropped to the floor, smacking his hand on the ground three times. The screams of the crowd grew so loud that they made Randy's ears ring, but he didn't care as he stood up, raising his arms into the air, smirking arrogantly. Chants of R-K-O thundered across the stadium, echoing in Randy's ears, reminding him that what he thought would be the worst night of his life had taken a turn for the better.

His smirk turning into a wide smile, he widened his arms and puffed his chest out, taking his Legend Killer stance.

* * *

Randy burst into his locker room, grinning from ear to ear despite the swollen bruises on his jawbone and eyebrow. He couldn't believe what had just happened…couldn't believe that everything had turned out so well. Barely an hour earlier he had been sure that he was going to lose his scholarship, that he and John were done… Now here he was, belt in hand, still the champion! Before he had left the ring John had pulled him into a tight embrace, using the hug to hide the fact that he was whispering into Randy's ear, telling the Viper not to leave the arena without him, that he'd come to his locker room as soon as he could. There was a fluttering in Randy's chest as John spoke those words, and it only intensified as John pulled away, giving Randy a small, apologetic smile. Randy had left the ring after that, practically skipping back to his locker room, the belt slung over his shoulder. Striding across the tile, he leaned over, dropping the belt back into his gym bag, carefully setting it down. He'd been stopped by Cody and Ted as he headed to his locker room, both shaking his hands and eagerly congratulating him on his victory. John Morrison, Santino, and even Kozlov had all stopped him in the hallway and congratulated him, with Santino even going so far as to hug him tightly and lift him into the air, spinning Randy around so fast it made him sick to his stomach. He would've blanched at the sudden sappy, affectionate human contact if he hadn't been so impressed as Santino's ability to lift him so easily…

He didn't know what suddenly caused John to change his mind about helping the Nexus, maybe it was something Randy had said, but he didn't care what it was, he was just glad that John came to his senses. The fact that John had been willing to turn on Wade gave Randy hope, made him think that maybe, just maybe he and John might have a chance at trying something again… Randy grinned to himself as he sat down on the locker room bench, reaching down to unlace his black wrestling boots. The way John had smiled at him after they hugged…maybe he was reading to much into it, but it seemed like John was really happy at the idea of seeing Randy later. Well, Randy thought happily, he certainly couldn't wait till John got there. He felt like a dumb teenager, he was so giddy as he thought about John… Things had been so good when they were doing their thing together, maybe they could go back to that? But then there was the Nexus…would Barrett really fire Cena? He would try to, Randy knew. Well, Randy shook his head, he would do whatever it took to make sure Cena kept his job. The Nexus was the most hated faction in the WWE…maybe he could get others to help him help John…maybe he could get others to help him overthrow the Nexus and end them for good. Yes, Randy thought with a nod, his nimble fingers at work on his laces, that's what he would do. He would take care of this little Nexus problem…he'd make sure that nobody controlled him or John or anyone else at RAW again…

"I'll bet you're real proud of yourself, aren't you?

Randy jumped to his feet, turning around to stare at the area that had been behind him, his hands clenching into fists immediately. No…it couldn't be…

Wade Barrett stepped out of the adjoining bathroom and shower. The leader of the Nexus looked a mess, his face covered into purple and blue bruises, his lips split lined with dried blood. His lean body was moist with sweat, and even his short brown hair was mussed, sticking up in all directions. He was a frightening sight, but the worst part was his eyes. Those golden brown eyes of his were glaring at Randy so intensely he actually took a step back, a chill running down his spine as he met Wade's gaze. There was a dangerous edge to Barrett's look, something sharp and deadly that was making the hairs on Randy's neck stand up. There was something wrong with Barrett…something very wrong…

"Everything just always works out so perfect for you, doesn't it?" Barrett continued, circling Randy.

"You lost Barrett," Randy replied quietly, taking a few slow steps away from Wade, "Get over it and get out of here…"

"I get it now," Wade continued, ignoring Randy's words and still circling him like a predator, "I understand why you're the champion…"

"Because I'm better then you?" Randy snorted dryly, trying to hide the fear in his voice.

"Because you're a little slut who's slept your way to the top." Barrett snapped, slamming his fist into the wall. The loud bang from Barrett punching the wall caused Randy to flinch, recoiling in fear away from Wade.

"You see, you wouldn't have won tonight if you hadn't been sucking John Cena's cock." Wade went on easily, "He wouldn't have decided to help you if you weren't getting him off…and that got me thinking, who else have you been fucking to keep that championship?"

"I _earned_ this, Barrett," Randy claimed, "I haven't been—"

"You must be real good at giving head if Cena's willing to sacrifice his job for it." Barrett shook his head, "Though, I'm sure tonight he'll be expecting more than just a blowjob…you _do_ owe him for handing that championship to you."

"You should really get the fuck out of here." Orton growled, trying to maintain his composure. Fuck, he was in trouble…

"Oh no, Randy," Wade shook his head again, those gleaming eyes of his narrowing, "You took that championship away from me tonight, and now I'm going to make sure you _never_ defy me again…"


	19. Breakdown

"You should really get the fuck out of here." Orton growled, trying to maintain his composure. Fuck, he was in trouble…

"Oh no, Randy," Wade shook his head again, those gleaming eyes of his narrowing, "You took that championship away from me tonight, and now I'm going to make sure you _never_ defy me again…"

Barrett was fast, faster then Randy _ever_ remembered her being in the ring. He let out a violent snarl, leaping across the wooden bench that stood between him and his prey. Eyes wide like a mad man, he speared the Legend Killer in the gut, tackling the slightly shorter man to the ground. Randy cried out in pain at that, still feeling the effects of their match, but he struggled nonetheless. Shooting his arms and legs out in a frenzy, Randy kicked against his attacker, his entire body shaking with effort as he and Barrett fell to the ground. They rolled back and forth, the cold, dry tile floor rubbing against Randy's back as he fought tooth and nail to get the crazy man off of him. It was no use, however, for Barrett was the stronger of the two, and he quickly pinned Randy down, wrapping his hands around Randy's inked wrists and holding him down to the floor.

"You know Randy…" Barrett huffed, his biceps flexing as he tried to hold the whimpering man still, "_This_ is why I am so attracted to you…you have so much _fight_ in you…it's intoxicating."

"F-fuck you!" Orton hissed, baring his teeth like a furious tiger. He didn't like the feeling of Wade on top of him…didn't like their bare chests rubbing against each other, didn't like how Barrett was squeezing his wrists so hard it felt like his bones were splintering, didn't like how their bare, smooth legs were pressed together, hot skin on skin… It was disgusting, like filth all over his body.

"You're so fucking _perfect_," Barrett went on, kicking Randy's thighs apart, "You've got the looks, the brains, hell, even the fans love you…everyone _fucking_ loves you…"

Orton cried out in anger as Wade pushed his hips forward, the unmistakable hardness in his trunks pressing on Randy's groin. The tile was practically grating against his back now, causing Randy to wince in pain as he shuffled on the floor, still trying to wriggle out of Barrett's grasp.

"The fans love you, the corporation loves you…" Wade glared down at Randy with a mixture of disgust and pure lust, his face a bright, inflamed red, "Even the most powerful superstar alive, Hunter Hearst Helmsley, think you're the best young talent this company's got. Fuck…you've even managed to get John Cena himself to fall for you…"

"W-what the fuck does this have to do with _anything_?" Randy cried out, his bright eyes looking up at Barrett incredulously. He could still feel Barrett's dick stabbing at him, pressing between his legs…

"You're so perfect…" Wade's voice turned almost whimsical, longing, "I have to have you…"

"I hate you!" Randy screamed, the sheer volume of his own voice frightening him as it echoed off the walls of the locker room.

"I hate you too, Randy." Barrett's voice was so low Randy's could barely hear him, "I don't think you realize just how much I _fucking _hate you…"

"Then leave me alone! Stop doing this!" Orton's voice actually took on a pleading tone as he squirmed against Barrett's touch. Fuck, Wade was strong…his grip on Randy's wrists was so powerful the pinned man could only move a few inches at a time. Damn, it hurt so bad! Barrett's nails were digging into his skin, his fingers so tightly wound around Randy's forearms that he was sure if he twisted the wrong way Barrett would break his wrists. Where was John? He had to be coming soon…he just had to… Randy swallowed dryly, his throat feeling thick and sticky like he'd swallowed syrup.

"Oh no, I'm not done." Barrett sneered nastily, "I've been dreaming of doing this to you for weeks now…"

He leaned forward, pressing his warm lips against Randy's mouth, causing the trapped man to yelp in surprise and rage. Barrett seized the opportunity, shoving his tongue into Randy's mouth, probing deep into that hot, wet cavern, loving the feeling of Randy's taut body struggling beneath him. The Viper was thrashing against Wade's kiss, his hips bumping against Barrett's, his tight, flat stomach rubbing against Barrett's own abdomen. And then he was bucking his hips, trying desperately to kick out of Wade's hold. Instead he only caused his crotch to rub against Wade's clothed erection, making the younger man almost purr with pleasure. The feeling of his cock sliding against Randy's groin was amazing, causing a rush of heat to surge between his legs. Oh no, he couldn't stop now even if he wanted to…this was far too good of an opportunity to pass up. Randy Orton, pinned beneath him, completely helpless and at his mercy? He was going to make good work of this… Randy's pale eyes widened suddenly as he felt Barrett release one of his hands. The sudden release of pressure on his wrist made Randy breathe a sigh of relief, though his other hand with still being held against the tile. Barrett's limber fingers began working at his trunks then, pulling at the hem, trying to yank them down. Randy screamed out in fear then, kicking his legs out wildly, the muscles in his thick thighs flexing impressively as he struggled against Barret's hold.

"Shut up!" Wade pulled his free fist back and punched Randy in the face so hard that his eye immediately began to swell shut, puffing up and purpling instantly.

"G-get off of me!" Randy howled, his voice laced with pain. The punch had been hard enough to make him see stars, certainly hard enough to make him whimper in agony, reaching with his free hand to gingerly rub the swollen mass that was once his eye.

Barrett paid him no mind, gripping the black fabric of Randy's wrestling trunks and yanking them down his legs. Orton kicked against him, but the punch must've dazed him, for his efforts were weaker. Barrett almost drooled when he saw Randy's cock—soft, unfortunately. It seemed the Legend Killer wasn't enjoying himself…but no matter. Wade didn't give a shit about Randy's pleasure. Oh, if he had could he'd make Orton come so hard he wouldn't even remember the name 'John Cena', but he had a time limit here. His pleasure most certainly came first, so Randy would just have to deal with it. Reaching down with his free hand, Wade quickly pulled his own shorts down, his throbbing cock springing into view. Smirking toothily, Barrett pushed his hips forward, causing Randy to whine in shame as he felt the head of Wade's dick push up against his ass. He couldn't believe this was happening to him, couldn't believe that he was lying naked beneath Wade Barrett, of all people… Barrett closed his eyes in ecstasy as he rolled his hips, the length of his cock sliding against Randy's tight, pink entrance. He could feel the heat radiating from Randy's ass, and the thought of what he was about to do was enough to make his dick pulse.

"If you relax you might actually enjoy this." Barrett purred as he leaned forward, his tongue slipping past his lips and gliding along Randy's throat, causing the older man to shiver.

"Like hell!" Randy snarled, jerking his head away from Wade's touch, "You're fucking disgusting!"

"Fine!" Wade growled back, scowling deeply as his eyes darkened, "You want this to be painful? I can do that. I can give you pain…"

Barrett leaned back then, pushing his hips forward. Randy screamed, his throat going raw he screamed so loud as he felt the tip of Barrett's cock push into him. Wade's smirk grew into a psychotic smile as he suddenly shoved his dick into Randy, burying his cock as deep as he could into the trapped man. Randy screamed even louder at that, clenching his eyes shut and throwing his head back, jaw in the air. Barrett moaned in pleasure as he pulled out and then slammed his cock back into Randy, the tight heat practically choking his dick. The slick sound of skin on skin sounded out as Barrett pulled out and then again and again and again he thrust his dick into Randy, groaning in pleasure as he stretched Randy's tight ass. He hadn't prepped Randy at all, and the pinned man whimpered in pain as he was stuffed with Wade's thick cock, his back arching as he tried to remain as still as possible. The less he moved, the less the thrusting hurt. Wade was having none of that, however, for he was bucking his hips wildly, ramming himself in and out of Randy's unwilling body.

"Mmm… so fucking tight!" Wade hissed through clenched teeth, feeling the pleasure build between his legs.

"F-fuck you!" Randy whined, biting his bottom lip so hard he drew a single drop of bright red blood.

The pain was so intense Randy clenched his eyes shut, willing himself not to cry. It felt like he was being torn in two, Wade was fucking him so hard and so fast. He and Johnny had had fun, they'd gone hard and rough…but never, _never_ had it hurt…Johnny had always made sure he felt good… Just thinking of Cena while Barrett's cock slid inside him was enough to break Randy. Letting out a heaving sob, his eyes burned, and then there were two hot streams flowing down his cheeks. Barrett grunted then, renewing his thrusting with vigor, his cock pounding hard into Randy's hot ass. In and out he fucked Randy, again and again his cock pushing inside of that tight hole. It was too much, with a cry of pleasure Wade felt his body convulse, and then his cock was jerking inside of Randy, and with a few quick thrusts he came hard. Burying himself into Randy's ass as deep as he could go, Wade went still as his dick shot hot cum inside of the pinned man, the mind-numbing ecstasy of his orgasm literally making him see white as he came inside of Randy.

Randy was crying silently when Barrett pulled out of him, the tall man standing up and pulling up his wrestling trunks, his eyes half-lidded over like a druggie who'd just gotten his fix. He didn't even look at Randy, instead heading toward the door of the locker room and placing his hand on the metal handle. Turning, he looked down at his prey, his lips curling into a smirk. Randy was laying on the tile, naked, his eye a bright blackish-purple and swollen so badly it was almost completely shut. There were dried tears staining his face, and fresh ones pouring down past those stains. His legs were still spread; he hadn't moved a muscle since Wade had finished inside of him, and now Barrett could see a small amount of blood pooling between Randy's legs…along with the cum, of course.

"Well Randy," Barrett chuckled, "Who's disgusting now?"

He turned and left without even realizing that his victim had not been awake to hear him.

* * *

John Morrison was laying on his stomach, reaching around with his left hand, trying hard to massage a tightened muscle in his back. Wincing as his fingers rubbed into the wound up string of muscle, he squirmed against the hotel comforter, clenching his teeth to keep from crying out. At first he'd thought he pulled something, but after some investigation he discovered that it couldn't possibly been a pulled muscle. It would've hurt a lot more if it was. It was much more likely he just strained it or twisted the wrong way…damn Starship Pain. Of course he had to go and pick a signature move that was difficult to perform and harsh on the body… Letting out a groan of contempt, Morrison rolled onto his back and sat up, simultaneously swinging his legs over the bed. It was late; Survivor Series had ended a good hour ago, but somehow he'd had a bit of trouble falling asleep. Maybe if he had a man to keep him warm…no, Morrison shook his head, his lovely brown hair waving back and forth. After Mike, he'd made a promise to himself to stay single for a while. Sure, it was lonely, but he definitely needed some time to himself. His room was dimly lit—he wasn't much one for bright lights—and impeccably clean. His suitcases were on the far wall, neatly lined up, and even the comforters are his bed were pulled tidily. After Survivor series had ended he'd decided to clean and pack while he could—they only had two or three days left in the city anyway before it was on to the next one.

There was a sudden pounding on his door, so loud that it made Morrison jump slightly, his eyes widening.

Who on earth could it be? Standing up slowly, Morrison headed over to his suitcase, reaching down and scooping up a white t-shirt. The muscles in his arms tightening, he lifted the shirt over his head, quickly pulling it down over his torso. The black jeans he was wearing were on the tighter side but modest enough, he decided as he headed over towards the door. Whoever was knocking had not given up; they were ramming the door so hard it was shaking in its frame. His bare feet shuffling across cheap, scratchy carpet, Morrison grumbled something about it being two in the morning as he reached for the doorknob, wrenching the door open.

"Alright already, for fuck's sake I'm…John?" Morrison cocked his head in confusion as his brain registered who was standing before him.

John Cena looked like he had murdered someone.

The Chaingang Soldier was pale like white linen, and his eyes were such a dark shade of blue they looked almost black. When Morrison looked into Cena's eyes he could've sworn he was looking into the depths of a stormy, angry ocean. But that wasn't the worst part…the worst part was his pale blue t-shirt had a dark red stain in the center, towards his stomach…

"John man…what the hell's the matter?" Morrison's friendly smile dipped into a concerned frown.

"I…I need your help…" Cena stumbled over his words, his voice breaking in the middle of his plea. Fuck, he looked a mess…his eyes were pink, like he'd been crying, and Morrison couldn't help but notice that his knuckles were scraped raw, like he'd punched a brick wall over and over again.

"Cena, you're scaring me." Morrison shook his head, "Please tell me what's wrong, you look like somebody's died.

John remained silent, his eyes falling to the floor, his fists clenched so hard his forearms were shaking.

"John, I can't help you if you don't tell me what's wrong." Morrison said slowly, his words careful and calm. Cena looked like a man on the edge right now, he couldn't afford to push him…

"You…you have to see." John spat, his words suddenly turning angry.

Cena turned around, offering Morrison his wide back, turning to the room next to Morrison's. Randy's room, of course. Somehow Morrison had known this had something to do with Randy… He didn't waste time; as soon as Cena reached out and pushed Randy's door open Morrison jumped forward, not even caring that he didn't have any shoes on. The Champ looked severely shaken…something terrible had to have happened. John Cena wasn't one to scare easily…if he was this upset, then he had a damn good reason to be. He followed silently behind John's massive body, unable to really see where Cena was leading him. Eventually they made it to the center of the room…where the bed was…

Morrison gasped out loud, reaching up and clamping his hand over his open mouth, trying desperately to silence himself.

Randy Orton was laying in the bed on his back, clad in nothing but a loose pair of black sweat pants. His usually tan skin was pale and sickly, like it was stretched to tightly across his muscle and bone. A violet bruise marred Randy's handsome face, his eye so swollen it looked like someone had slipped an egg under his flesh. His bottom lip was crusted over with a tiny droplet of dried blood, the normally soft lips looking tender, worn. His eyes scanning down Randy's still body, Morrison chewed on his bottom lip, willing himself to remain silent as he saw the rings of navy blue bruises circling Randy's wrists. Oh god…it looked like someone had held him down…held him down _hard_. But that wasn't it…the inside of Randy's knees were black and blue as well…almost like…almost like he'd been… No. It was simply impossible. Randy was strong, he'd never let this…he'd never let this happen! But then a small voice in Morrison's mind reminded him of the gym…reminded him what going to happen…what he had been able to stop… The poor thing lying on the bed seemed to be sleeping. His eyes were shut, and his breathing was steady, his chest rising and falling in rhythm. But there was something unsettling about the way Randy was frowning…like he'd never be happy again. Like he was caught in some nightmare, some horrible sleep he didn't want to be in. A shiver ran down Morrison's spine as he looked at the sleeping man…was it from the paralyzing sadness that seemed to radiate from Orton? Or was it because deep down…deep down Morrison knew…he knew what had happened…

"I…I found him in his locker room." Cena stammered.

"_Randy? Randy…please answer me! Oh fuck…!" Cena was screaming as he fell at Randy's side. His lover was slipping in and out of consciousness, his eyes half shut, pupils dilating and constricting randomly, unable to focus. _

"_No…no, no, no!" Cena howled, reaching up, his fingers weaving into his light hair, tugging at his scalp so hard it was like his hair was being ripped from his head. Randy shift on the floor, sighing in pain as he stretched his legs out…and then…then John saw the blood…red staining beige tile…_

"Who…who did it?" Morrison choked on his own words, unable to take his chocolate eyes off of Randy's silent form.

"Who do you think?" Cena's voice turned low, his words sharp and angry.

"_Come on Randy, please wake up!" John had taken Randy's head in his lap, reaching out and drawing his fingers lightly across Orton's cheek, trying to get the disoriented man to wake up. _

"_Johnny…" Randy's lips moved clumsily, his voice slurring so badly that John barely understood his own name._

"_Tell me…tell me who did this!" John hissed past clenched teeth, his jaws so tight he was sure his molars were crushing each other._

"Barrett?" Morrison cocked an eyebrow upwards, turning to face John.

"Good guess." Cena spat.

"What…what do you want me to do?" Morrison asked quietly.

"Stay with him." Cena replied, turning towards the door, "Keep him comfortable and…and if he wakes up…stay with him. He'll need you."

"Me? No, he won't need me." Morrison shook his head slowly, his eyes hardening, "He'll need _you_. You can't leave him now…not when he needs you most."

"I have to end this. This—" Cena waved his arm towards the bed, "—is never going to end if I don't do something about it. I have to make sure Randy will never get hurt again."

"And what am I supposed to tell him if he wakes up?" Morrison placed his hands on his shapely hips, "That you ran off? That you're not here for him?"

"Tell him the truth. That I'm finishing this for good." Cena shrugged, still facing the door, his back to Morrison.

"Oh yeah? And how the hell are you going to do that?" Morrison through his hands in the air, "Barrett's got the entire Nexus on his side…you're just one person."

"Looks like I'm going to have to get some help." Cena said, opening the door and stepping out.


	20. The Triad

"_Cena it is two-thirty in the morning, certainly whatever it is you need to tell me can wait until daylight." His voice was hoarse from sleep, his jaw tight in annoyance at being woken up by a phone call. _

"_No Hunter, it can't. I need to see you. Now." John's words were urgent, his voice practically trembling._

"_Cena—" Hunter began with a tired sigh, reaching up to rub his eyes with his free hand._

"_It's about Randy." John growled. "He's hurt."_

_Hunter had fallen silent at that._

"_You know the hotel we're all at. Meet me in the parking lot." John continued._

And now it was three in the morning, the blackness of the night so thick Hunter could barely make out his own feet. The hotel parking lot was dimly lit with flickering streetlights, the dark asphalt melting perfectly into the sky, making it difficult to determine where the earth ended and the atmosphere began. Hunter was leaning against his silver Challenger, his giant hulking body quivering slightly. The night air was chilly, and the swift breeze only strengthened the cold, making the King of Kings shiver despite the black leather jacket and blue jeans he was wearing. There was a scowl across his face, his thick, blonde eyebrows furrowed, the creases in his forehead making him look like he was deep in thought. He had his long hair loose and down, the shoulder-length yellow locks billowing in the hard wind. He had half a mind to tie it back to keep it out of his eyes, but the thought of that bone-chilling breeze striking his bare neck was enough to make Hunter reconsider. He had parked far from the hotel entrance, his car a lonely little island in the middle of a sea of asphalt, just as Cena had commanded. He supposed Cena thought it would be easy to find him if he parked away from the rest of the cars. Since he'd drove to the hotel Hunter had seen only two cars pass by; it seemed everyone else in the city was asleep…just like he wanted to be.

He didn't think much when he was woken from his deep slumber by a ringing telephone. He was a busy man, he was used to late night business calls. But he had been very surprised to discover that it was none other then John Cena, the Champ himself, calling. He wasn't friends with Cena, didn't know the kid very well at all, hell, he didn't even know how Cena got his number. As soon as Cena had spoken, though, he knew something was terribly wrong. And then Cena said it was Randy…to be honest, Hunter didn't know what to think about that. There was a time when he considered Randy to be like a son to him…back in their Evolution days they had been close, like a wolf teaching his pup to kill. Then Dave had to go and ruin everything…well, Hunter thought with a huff, wrapping his taut arms around his chilled body, perhaps that had been for the best. He had been going down dangerous road in Evolution, turning into a hateful, spiteful monster that was willing to crush anyone and anything that stood between him and the championship. In the end, it had taken losing Randy to make him really see what he was becoming. Oh the fights they had had when he discovered Randy was seeing Dave…he'd been ready to strangle the young Orton. He never would've thought Randy would be stupid enough to date a sleaze like Batista…for weeks he tried to convince Randy to stay away from the Animal. And who did Randy choose in the end? Not his mentor, no, he chose a man that ended up smacking him around less then six months later.

At least Randy had been smart enough to get out of that relationship once Dave started getting physical.

Damn, Hunter thought with a menacing scowl, turning his head to the side to look for Cena, just the thought of Dave hitting Randy _still_ made him want to break something. But that was Randy, wasn't it? Always getting into trouble… Judging from what Cena had said, he was in something big now. Cena had sounded jumpy, either nervous or enraged. And he'd said Randy was hurt… Hunter tilted his head down, staring at his black boots. As much as he tried not to, he still held a soft spot for the Viper, and when Cena said he'd been hurt…Hunter had felt his heart rush, his blood freeze in his veins. What on earth could it be? He hated not knowing, hated that Cena was taking so damn long to get there. If Randy was hurt then Hunter needed to know _now_. Stephanie hadn't been happy when he told her he had to leave, but she nodded in understanding as soon as he mentioned Randy's name. His wife had always been very understanding of his feelings for Randy, she knew how much the kid meant to him, just like she knew how much Shawn meant to him.

"Hey."

Hunter whipped around, standing up and away from his car. Cena was on the other side of the Challenger, a grim scowl on his face, his hands stuffed into his pockets.

"About damn time. I've been freezing my ass off waiting for you." Hunter griped, turning and walking around his car, heading towards Cena.

"I need your help." John said, his voice so quiet Hunter barely heard him. The Champ was wearing nothing but a loose pair of jeans and a white cotton shirt…how he managed to take the bitingly cold wind, Hunter couldn't even imagine.

"You said this was about Randy." Hunter's eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"This is about Randy." John nodded solemnly, "He needs our help."

"Hate to break it to you," Hunter shook his head as he drew closer to Cena, "But I don't think the kid wants my help. We're not exactly on speaking terms."

"Doesn't matter." John shrugged, his shoulders bobbing, "He _needs_ help."

"Why are _you_ telling me to help him?" Hunter asked, his arms still crossed against his enormous chest, "If he needs help so badly, why isn't _he _asking me?"

"They hurt him." Cena hissed, pursing his lips into a mean scowl, his blue eyes flashing as he stared into Hunter's stony gaze.

"Who? The Nexus?" The blonde behemoth stiffened as he spoke, "I've seen what they've been doing to him on RAW…"

"Trust me Hunter," John's words were clipped with barely concealed fury, "It's much worse then anyone knows."

"Randy's a fighter." Hunter tilted his jaw up, his words both proud and defiant, "I don't understand how he'd let them hurt him. The Randy I knew would've crushed each and every one of them if they got in his way."

"Its not that simple." Cena replied evenly, "They gang up on him, corner him and surprise attack him. They always attack him when he's weak… Wade Barrett…he…he attacked him after their match last night."

"Barrett beat him up?" Hunter shook his head again, frowning deeply.

"He didn't just beat him." John spoke softly, his words pained.

"What do you mean?" The Game could feel his breath catching in his throat, like he was swallowing air into his stomach. He wasn't naïve…he knew exactly what men usually wanted from Randy…

"Barrett…Barrett forced him." Cena admitted quietly, breaking eye contact, choosing instead to stare at the asphalt.

They both fell silent.

"Help me make him pay. For Randy." John said, lifting his eyes.

Hunter would not meet his stare, instead clenching his jaws and staring past John, staring into the black air of nighttime.

"Barrett has been hurting him for a long time." John continued, his words slippery and persuasive, "But he's gone too far…I found Randy in the locker room. He was a mess…bleeding, crying, just about unconscious. He barely even recognized me when I walked in."

Hunter's meaty hands curled into fists.

"We can't let Barrett get away with this." John growled, his voice getting louder with each word, "He hurt Randy! He put his hands on him! He made him bleed, gave him a black eye! We can't let him just walk away from that."

Hunter was clenching his hands so tightly his nails were digging crescent-shaped pits into his fleshy palms.

"I know you care a lot about Randy." Cena continued, sensing victory, "Barrett knows how much you care about Randy…and he _still_ hurt him. You can't let him get away with hurting someone you're so close to, someone you care so much about…can you?"

The blonde bit his bottom lip then, suppressing a snarl of rage.

"Help me punish Barrett." Cena took a step towards Hunter, "I can't take on the Nexus alone…I need your help to make sure Barrett can never hurt Randy again."

"I'll kill him." Hunter hissed past his clenched teeth.

"You say that like it's a problem." John chuckled darkly, "Come on. There's someone else who I think will want to help us."

* * *

"Do we really _need_ his help?" Hunter mumbled in irritation as he and John stepped out of the hotel elevator. They were on the highest level of the hotel, the fifteenth floor, which seemed to have a green theme to it. As they walked down the hall, their feet strode over emerald carpet, the off-white walls lined with paintings of landscapes. Whoever decorated this level must've had a thing for fields of flowers, for every picture they passed was of paradisiacal meadows. It was an altogether pleasant effect, giving the floor a peaceful feeling to it. The room they were looking for was 1550…all the way at the south end of the hall. It had only taken a single phone call to Jason Reso to find what room they needed to go to. Thankfully, John was on good terms with Jay, and he'd been all too happy to help them.

"You and I could probably take out the Nexus ourselves." Hunter continued, walking on John's left side, "Do we really need to involve _him_?"

"Barrett has Gabriel, Slater, and Otunga all on his side. And maybe Harris and McGilicutty too." Cena shook his head, arms swinging as they walked on, "Me and you are good, but were only two people. It'd be two, maybe three on one if it was just me and you."

"Please," Hunter snorted, "I could snap Gabriel and Slater in half…at the same time. And Otunga probably won't stick around for a fight…everyone knows he hates taking orders from Barrett. I just don't think we need to involve someone else."

"Is there some other reason you don't want him to help us?" Cena's blue eyes shifted, staring at the blonde as they passed door after door, "You seem pretty against asking him for help."

"Let's just say we've never exactly seen eye to eye." Hunter replied curtly, "Then again, I guess I've never really gotten along with anyone Randy's dated. He's got a serious problem with picking guys that are all wrong for him."

"Right." John nodded stiffly, turning away from Hunter

"This is it." Hunter said as they came to a halt in front of room 1550. Raising his fist, Hunter reached out, banging on the door loudly. Cena winced as the King of Kings practically busted the door in two with his knocking, but he remained silent, reminding himself that he needed to keep the hulking blonde on his side. Especially if he was going to have any luck convincing Randy's ex to help them…

The door swung open, and immediately Adam Copeland was standing before them.

The Rated R Superstar must not have been sleeping, despite the fact that it was three-thirty in the morning. He was wearing dark, ripped jeans that were far too smooth to have been slept in. The black t-shirt he wore, too, was unwrinkled, though it looked like he'd just slipped it on. His hazel eyes were wide and questioning as he looked at John, but as his gaze traveled to the left, his eyes quickly narrowed with suspicion. A lazy smirk crossed Adam's face as he met Hunter's glare, one of his slender hands reaching up and running through his wavy blonde locks.

"Cena. Hunter." Adam rolled his eyes, "What a pleasure."

"Cut the attitude Copeland," Hunter spat, "We're not here to play silly little games with you."

"Nice to see you're as warm and fuzzy as ever." Adam chuckled drily, turning away from Hunter so that he was looking into Cena's pale eyes, "Can I ask what the hell you're doing here? Blondie here I'm guessing just enjoys my company so much he couldn't stay away…but what do _you_ want?"

Hunter opened his mouth to angrily retort back, but John beat him to it, shooting Hunter a warning look.

"We've got something important to talk about. Mind if we come in?" Cena said quickly, hoping to keep as much peace as possible between the two blondes.

"By all means…" Adam stepped back from the door, holding out his arm in a mock welcoming.

John and Hunter walked in, heading toward the center of the room, feet shuffling across a dull, beige carpet. The room was a bit cluttered; clothes were scattered across the floor and the bed was completely undone with blankets and sheets thrown haphazardly across the mattress. A bright light was shining from the center of the ceiling, its rays strong enough to make both Hunter and Cena grimace with displeasure. Adam didn't seem to care, however, as he strode in normal as ever, his eyes still focused on the two men before him.

"Can we make this quick?" Copeland reached up, rubbing at the blonde scruff on his chin, "I don't know if you two realize this, but it's pushing four-o'clock in the morning, and my bed's looking quite inviting right about now."

"We need to talk to you about something serious." John said slowly, folding his muscular arms across his chest.

"Let me guess…Randy's got himself in some sort of trouble, hasn't he?" Adam sighed, reaching up and running his hand through his hair again, "What a _fucking_ surprise."

"How did you know?" Cena cocked his head to the side in surprise.

"The only time Hunter can ever stomach my presence is because of Randy." Copeland shrugged, shooting the Game a sly grin, "So what's he done now? Oh wait, I know! He's got some asshole giving him trouble, doesn't he?"

"Something like that." Cena nodded, surprised that Adam was catching on so quickly. How long had he and Randy dated again? A year…maybe more? For some reason John was now suddenly feeling on edge, wondering why on earth he had to go to one of Randy's ex's—of all people—for help.

"You know, that was something you were right about, Hunter." Copeland continued, leaning against the drywall of his hotel room, "Randy always did attract the jerks… I like to think that I was one of the better ones, but I guess that's Randy's judgment, isn't it?"

"You didn't smack him around, I'll give you that, Copeland." Hunter admitted begrudgingly, spitting out those words as if it physically hurt to say them.

"Huh, guess I deserve a fucking medal." Adam laughed, though his eyes remained dark, "But really, how bad is it?"

"Bad." Cena replied quietly, forcing himself to look the taller man in the eye.

Adam turned to Hunter, his eyes asking a silent question. Hunter didn't say anything, merely giving a single, short, jerking nod of his head, his lips twisting into a scowl. Copeland turned back to Cena then, his jaws tightening like he was grinding his teeth together.

"That bad?" Adam asked, his voice low and suddenly sounding very, very tired.

"As bad as it could be." Cena answered slowly.

"What the hell does that mean?" Copeland snapped, straightening up as he leaned away from the wall, his eyes darting back and forth between Hunter and John.

"Wade Barrett forced Randy into sex after Survivor Series." Hunter snarled, his eyes dropping to the floor as he verbalized the very thing that had been crushing his mind ever since he and John had left the parking lot.

The whole room went silent.

"Is this some kind of joke?" Adam looked back and forth, his eyes swinging from John to Hunter and then back again, "You're fucking joking…right?"

Silence. Hunter was still staring at the carpet, and John seemed to be looking at nothing, for his eyes were glazed over and distant.

"Well…that was unexpected." Copeland said quietly, his words slow and careful.

He turned and struck out his fist with a growl like an animal, his hand going straight through the drywall of his hotel room, his arm burying itself up to the elbow in the wall. The sudden scream of rage had shocked both Hunter and John, making them jump in surprise as Adam took out his fury on the wall. The sudden uncontrolled anger was so unexpected that Hunter and John exchanged worried looks, blue eyes meeting brown, both unsure of how to react. It had happened so fast, the impact so loud and so strong…neither one of them had been prepared for it.

"I'll fucking kill him." Adam hissed as he yanked his arm out of the wall, bits of paint and drywall stuck to his shirt sleeve, "How did you guys find out about it?"

"I found him in his locker room after our match." Cena answered, "It was maybe twenty minutes after—"

"Wait, why were you going to his locker room after your match?" Adam whirled on John, glaring at him with suspicion.

"I…uh…" Cena stammered, unable to come up with a quick response. To his horror, Hunter, too, turned on him, the blonde suddenly looking at him as if seeing him for the first time. Great…this was _not_ what he needed right now.

"Oh, that's just great." Adam laughed sarcastically, "You're fucking him, aren't you?"

"I…wouldn't say it like _that_." Cena reached up, rubbing the back of his head, his cheeks flaming bright red.

"Funny, you neglected to mention this to me." Hunter sneered.

"Does it make a difference?" Cena huffed impatiently, "So what if me and Randy have been seeing each other? Are you two going to help me crush Barrett or not?"

"Of course I'm still going to end the Nexus." Hunter nodded eagerly, "But after that you and I need to have a talk."

"Well, I enjoy hurting people…especially people who have hurt my Randy." Adam gave a cruel smirk, "So count me in."

"_You're_ Randy?" Cena scowled deeply in displeasure.

"He was mine way before he was ever _yours_." Adam replied testily.

"You haven't even seen him in months!" John scoffed, turning and facing Adam head on, "Besides, I'm pretty sure its _me_ he's been staying with—"

"Both of you seem to forget that I have been close with Randy for five times as long as either of you." Hunter snapped, "Now quit this pissing contest. Adam, you know you and Randy haven't been anything for years now, so quit antagonizing his newest fuck buddy."

"We're not just fuck buddies." Cena grumbled.

"Like I care." Hunter rolled his eyes, "Just remember if you hurt him I'll cut your balls off."

"Don't worry, he's all talk." Adam said, patting John on his thick shoulder, "Now, are we going to rip Barrett into pieces or not"

"Right." John nodded, turning and heading for the door, "Let's go find the Nexus."

"You know, this could actually be a good bonding activity for the three of us." Adam grinned.

"Shut up Copeland." Hunter spat as he followed Cena to the door, "When this is all said and done I'm still going to hate you."

"What if I break Barrett's jaw?" Adam smiled, revealing white teeth, "Would you still hate me then?"

Hunter paused for a moment, considering the question.

"I suppose if you broke his face I'd hate you a little less then I do now." Hunter admitted with a sadistic smirk.

"Somehow I think the three of us are going to have a lot of fun beating the shit out of the Nexus." Adam replied.

"You have no idea." Cena hissed, his hand wrapping around the doorknob and pushing the door open.


	21. Three on Two

"Randy…can you hear me?"

When he began feeling the numbness of sleep leave his brain, Randy squeezed his eyes tightly shut, unwilling to accept that he was finally waking up. He didn't want to stop sleeping…didn't want to open his eyes, look in the mirror and see the disgusting black, swollen bruise over his eye. He didn't want to stretch and feel the tender, ripping pain deep inside him…didn't want to turn the wrong way and remember the raw scrapes he had on his back; red, irritated slashes marring tan flesh. But most of all he didn't want to remember the feeling of those hands on him, holding him down while he was stabbed from the inside out…no. It'd be far better to stay asleep, to stay in a place where he didn't see or feel anything that was real. He could already feel the pain in his legs and inside him sharpening, however as he was pulled out of the darkness. It was too late; he wouldn't be feeling the comforting caress of mindless bliss anytime soon…he was wide awake now. Cracking his eyelids open, Randy winced in pain. His left eye was so swollen he could only open it halfway, the dim light of the hotel room making him squint. Pale, icy-colored eyes roaming across the room, he took in his surroundings. It seemed like he was in his own room, judging from the thick, dark blue comforter draped across his body. The matching cornflower-blue carpet looked familiar, as did the large black suitcases lining the far wall. Yes, he was definitely in his own room…but…but how did he get there? The last thing he could remember was _him_ saying something, something cruel before disappearing behind the locker room door…

"Hey…are you ok?"

Randy turned his head to the right, his tired eyes making out the fuzzy outline of a person sitting in a chair at his bedside. As his eyes began to focus, he saw that it was a man with long, wavy brown hair that floated around his shoulders. He was wearing a white t-shirt, and what looked like black pants…but Randy couldn't really get a good look at his legs. Blinking thickly, Randy stared at the man, trying hard to make out his face. As his eyes finally adjusted to the dim lighting of the room, Randy suddenly realized who it was.

"W-what're you doin' here?" Orton said slowly, his stiff, cut lips moving clumsily.

"Just keeping an eye on you." John Morrison replied softly. His elbows were resting on the mattress as he leaned forward, chocolate-colored eyes staring intensely at Randy.

"How did…how did I get here?" Randy asked, carefully moving his mouth so that he wouldn't irritate his split lip.

"Cena brought you here." Morrison answered calmly, "I don't know how he found you…or how he got you here. He came and got me after he got you in your bed."

"John…John found me?" Randy's face fell as he turned, looking away.

"Yeah. And it's a good thing he did…you were hurt pretty badly." Morrison had a small, sad frown on his handsome face.

"I guess…I guess he figured out what happened…" Randy muttered, sinking into the blankets.

"Yeah…he did." Morrison nodded.

"He…he told you?" Randy glanced at the other man out of the corner of his eye.

"Yeah. Maybe he shouldn't have." Morrison shook his head thoughtfully.

"No, he shouldn't have." Orton growled, turning to glare at the man sitting at his side.

"He needed me to watch you, so I guess that's why he told me." Morrison shrugged, "He didn't want to leave you alone."

"Where did he go?" The Viper asked, his voice having an edge to it.

"I…don't really know exactly." Morrison shrugged again, his voice sheepish as he reached up, rubbing his eyes, "He didn't say. He just asked me to watch you while he took care of Barrett—"

"He's gone after Barrett?" Randy's blue eyes widened, "But…the Nexus—"

"Hey, don't ask me what his plan is." Morrison held up his hands defensively, "He was so worked up…I tried to tell him he'd be one guy against like five…but did he listen to me? No, of course not…"

"Fuck!" Randy spat, his hands curling into fists, "If he gets hurt…that's just something else I've fucked up."

They both went quiet then, an uncomfortable silence filling the air.

"Ok…two things." Morrison glared down at Randy as he crossed his arms over his chest, "First of all, Cena's not stupid. If he's going to go after the Nexus you _know_ he's going to have a plan. Second…what do you mean it would be something else you've fucked up? You haven't fucked up anything."

"_This_ is all my fucking fault!" Randy snarled, throwing his hands up in the air, "I'm so fucking stupid! I should've never…I should've known—"

"Randy, _nobody_ expects their coworker to corner them in their locker room and rape them. Nobody ever _plans_ on getting attacked like that… It's not something you can control, so please, for goodness sake, don't you dare blame yourself for this!" Morrison snapped, "What he did was disgusting, and you didn't deserve it at all!"

Randy fell silent, his eyes darkening and smoldering like hot coals.

"Please Randy," Morrison leaned forward, his voice pleading, "Don't you ever think this was your fault."

"Yeah…sure." Orton mumbled, refusing to meet Morrison's gaze.

"I wish you could've seen Cena…" Morrison sighed.

"What do you mean?" Randy asked, his voice suspicious.

"The way he was acting…oh Randy, he was so worried about you. When he was telling me what happened…it was like he was losing his mind." Morrison smiled darkly, "Isn't it obvious?"

"What?" Randy blinked in confusion, shifting his body, the thin sheets wrapping around him.

"He's falling for you." Morrison replied quietly, "If you had seen him…you'd know."

"Whatever." Randy scowled, turning away from Morrison so he wouldn't see the bright red blush on his cheeks, "He probably won't want to…not after this."

"Oh please…" Morrison rolled his eyes, "Don't be stupid. He went to go take on the entire Nexus just for you! He's crazy about you Randy! And nobody, especially Wade Barrett, can change that."

"Yeah, well, hopefully he crushes Barrett's skull." Randy hissed spitefully.

"Oh, I wouldn't worry too much about that." Morrison chuckled.

* * *

Wade Barrett stood in the parking lot behind an abandoned warehouse. He'd had to drive nearly twenty minutes outside of the city to find this place, and—needless to say—he was rather miffed that he'd been forced to come all the way out in the middle of nowhere at four in the morning. John Cena had called him and asked him to meet him here… Barrett hadn't been surprised when he got the phone call. After all that had happened, he didn't think Cena would just walk away from this. No, he wasn't stupid enough to think Cena wouldn't make some pathetic attempt at retribution… But, surprisingly, John had sounded very benign on the phone…almost indifferent, in fact. He might as well have been talking about the weather when he asked Barrett to meet him at the warehouse…_that_ had been rather unexpected. Cena wore his emotions on his sleeve; Wade had been ready to be verbally assaulted with threats to his life. Perhaps John didn't really care…or perhaps he was finally starting to realize that resisting the Nexus was futile effort. Either way, Barrett didn't care, but he couldn't deny John…no, this would be a perfect opportunity to rub it in the so-called Champ's face that he, Wade Barrett, had had a piece of Randy Orton… Not to mention the fact that, if John was intending on exacting some revenge on Wade, he wanted to be ready for it. If he didn't agree to meet John in the parking lot outside of town, then John might've attacked him when he wasn't expecting it…and that was far less desirable then the current situation…

"Do we really have to do this?" David Otunga growled, his hands stuffed deep into his jacket's pockets, "Its damn cold out here and I got a nice warm bed back at the hotel with my name on it…"

"Oh shut up." Barrett rolled his eyes, "This won't take long."

Otunga grumbled in annoyance, but he soon went silent. Truthfully, Barrett hadn't wanted to involve neither David nor Heath—who was currently leaning against the same car as Otunga, wearing a matching frown of displeasure. Barrett didn't trust either of them, and he didn't want to drag them in too deep for fear that they may betray him…but Cena was not a weak man. He was a formidable adversary, and Wade suspected he was the type to completely lose it when his loved ones got hurt. For that reason, he had insisted that Otunga, Slater, and Gabriel joined him in his venture to the warehouse, if only for some added protection. Justin had all but jumped at the request as usual…really, the boy was quite pathetic sometimes. He made no effort to temper his infatuation with the leader of the Nexus, and Barrett often found dealing with the South African to be rather nauseating. It was cold out, and all four men were dressed in jeans and jackets. The chilly breeze only served to add to Otunga and Slater's obvious unhappiness, and Barrett found himself wishing that Cena would hurry the hell up. He and Justin had taken Justin's car, and they were leaning against it, only a few parking spaces away from Otunga's rental, where David and Heath were standing. The asphalt parking lot of the abandoned warehouse was quite large, and the building itself was huge. It was obviously empty, with tall walls that had gray paint flaking off of them. None of the streetlights in the parking lot worked it seemed, so Justin had left the lights of his car on, the two bright beams of light casting shadows across the ground.

More light suddenly appeared on the street, and all four men turned towards the road, squinting to see who was approaching. It was a silver Challenger, and it slowly turned into the parking lot, its headlights making Otunga and Slater shield their eyes with their hands as it approached. Barrett couldn't help but feel his heart race as the car slid into a parking spot in front of the group, his pulse quickening as the engine suddenly went silent. Despite the calmness in Cena's voice earlier, he couldn't help but wonder how the Chaingang soldier would react to the whole situation… One of the doors to the Challenger suddenly burst open, and John Cena stepped out, quickly slamming the door shut. Cena was wearing loose, dark jeans and a white t-shirt, completely oblivious to the blistering cold of the wind as he started walking toward the Nexus. His face was completely emotionless, giving away no hint of what was to come. He stopped a few steps away from the group, arms hanging at his side, blank eyes staring at Wade Barrett… Gabriel had tensed up at Cena's approach; the South African leaned away from the car he had been standing against, folding his arms across his chest. Otunga and Slater, however, remained still, disgruntled frowns remaining on their faces, backs still leaning against Otunga's car.

"Cena. How nice of you to finally join us…" Wade growled, brown eyes narrowing.

"I'm glad I'll finally get a chance to talk to you, Barrett." Cena replied evenly, "I'd like to clear the air—"

"I swear to god Cena," Otunga rolled his eyes, "If you made Barrett drag us all the way out here to the middle of nowhere just so you could have a chat, I'm going to—"

"Why don't you calm down and let me finish?" John said quietly, turning and giving Otunga a hard look, "I think you'd really like to hear what I have to say."

Otunga opened his mouth to tell Cena to shove it, but to everyone's surprise he was interrupted.

"Just a minute David." Heath said, reaching out and placing a hand on Otunga's massive deltoid, "I want to hear what Cena has to say."

"Thank you Heath." John nodded at the redhead before turning to Barrett, "Now, tell me this Barrett: why?"

"Why what?" Wade spoke, his lips curling into a sneer.

"Cut the act." Cena shook his head, "You know exactly what I'm talking about. Why did you do it?"

"Because I could." Wade smirked, crossing his arms against his chest, "And I'm glad I did."

"Well that answers my first question. Now for my second question," John held him arm out, pointing toward Slater and Otunga, "Do _they_ know?"

Barrett's smirk tightened, the muscles in his jaw bulging.

"Ah, they don't…do they?" Cena gave a small smile, shaking his head, "I didn't think so."

"What're you talking about?" David demanded, scowling deeply, "What don't we know about?"

"Well you see, Barrett decided to have a little fun after our match last night." John's smile dropped into a snarl, "He attacked my Randy…he _raped_ my Randy."

Silence.

"I knew it…" Heath turned toward Barrett, shaking his head in disbelief, "All this time…you _never_ stopped talking about hurting Randy, about getting to John through Randy… I just…I just _knew_ you had…you had a crush on him or something!"

"You don't know anything." Barrett spat, dropping his hands to his side, curling his fingers into meaty fists.

"No!" Heath pointed an angry finger at his leader, baring his teeth in an infuriated snarl, "You said you wanted the championship…but I _knew_ it was more than that! I knew since the beginning that you had your eye on Randy!"

"You…you can't be serious…" Otunga asked as he stared at John, shaking his head incredulously.

"This whole time…I knew this whole time there was something fucked up in your head!" Slater snapped at Barrett as he reached up, his fingers weaving into his ginger hair, "All you ever talked about was Randy and how much you wanted to hurt him… I can't believe I didn't…I can't believe I didn't do something about it!"

"Getting to Randy was the best way to get to the championship!" Justin suddenly proclaimed, taking a threatening step towards his friend, "Barrett did what he had to to get the championship—"

"You…you knew, didn't you?" Heath's pale blue eyes narrowed as he whirled around, glaring at his one-time best friend, "You knew he was going to do this to Randy!"

"I cannot fucking believe this…" Otunga sighed, reaching up and rubbing his eyes tiredly, "Been working my ass off in this company…all for this bullshit? You've got to be fucking kidding me…"

"I can't do this." Slater shook his head, "I can't be in a group that…that hurts people like that!"

"I made you everything you are today in the company!" Barrett snarled, taking a step towards the redhead, his fists clenched, "You would be nothing without me and the Nexus!"

"I don't care." Slater spat disgustedly, "I didn't sign up for this!"

"I've been looking for a reason to leave this group for ages." Otunga smirked darkly, "And fuck, if this isn't a damn good reason…"

"So this is it?" Wade curled his lips in disdain, "You're going to leave the Nexus over…_him?_" Barrett swung his arm out wildly, pointing towards the silent Cena.

"Did you seriously think we'd be ok with _this_?" Slater asked, shaking his head.

"No, he didn't." Cena finally spoke up, answering for the English man, "That's why you and Otunga weren't in on Barrett's little secret."

"Whatever…" Heath sighed like he was very, very tired, "I'm not doing this…I could never forgive myself if I went along with any of this…I'm done."

"Leave, then." Barrett sneered, rolling his eyes, "I can easily find others to replace you."

"Come on. We've wasted enough of our time." Heath said as he turned to David.

"Ain't that the truth." Otunga growled, turning and heading for his car. The two quickly opened their doors, bending over and sliding into the vehicle. Neither Heath nor David even turned to look at Cena, Barrett, or Gabriel as the engine rumbled to life. Two bright beams of light surged from the front of the car, and then the vehicle was rolling out of the parking lot, quickly disappearing down the road. The silence that followed the exit of the two members of the Nexus was stifling. John Cena stood about ten feet away from Justin and Wade, scowling at them, his blue eyes dark and stormy.

"Now, answer my question again, and this time give me the truth." Cena demanded softly, his voice dangerously quiet, "Why did you do it?"

"Perhaps you haven't realized this yet, Cena," Wade chuckled, shaking his head, "But I enjoy hurting people. Especially people who think they can't be hurt."

"You're sick." Cena replied, his fingers curling into fists.

"You know what I love more then hurting people?" Barrett smirked, "Scaring people that think they're fearless. You should've seen the look on Randy's face when I was on top of him—"

"If you enjoy being alive, you should really shut your mouth." Cena hissed, taking a threatening step forward.

"What are you going to do Cena?" Wade laughed out loud, brown eyes full of amusement, "You're strong, but Justin and I can and will take you out if you try to hurt us. Two on one isn't very good odds…"

"What about three on two? Those better odds?" John smiled suddenly, reaching his hand into the air as if he were waving at someone.

Barrett and Gabriel both whipped around, eyes widening as the two doors to the silver Challenger suddenly snapped open. Two blonde heads suddenly appeared, and all the color drained out of Barrett's face as he realized just who it was that John had brought with him. Hunter Hearst Helmsley came from the driver's side, his brown eyes narrowed, lips pursed in a furious snarl. His blonde hair was hanging in front of his face, giving him that crazed, deadly look that drew so many fans. The rage was radiating off of him as he glared at Barrett, his fists swinging at his side as he walked towards Cena. Hunter was wearing faded jeans and a black leather jacket, the fabric stretched tightly across his massive biceps. The man who stepped out of the passenger door was the Rated R Superstar himself, and his presence was far, far more shocking then that of The Game's. Unlike Hunter, Adam didn't look pissed. No, he wore a wide, toothy smirk, and his eyes were bright with a kind of psychotic excitement. He looked downright happy to be there, and as he walked side by side with Hunter towards Cena, he reached up, running his fingers through his wavy yellow hair.

"Now…what were you saying Wade?" Cena reached up, tapping on his chin thoughtfully, "Something about how I should've seen the look on Randy's face when you were on top of him?"

Hunter looked ready to explode at any moment as John spoke those words, standing on Cena's left, practically bursting with pure rage.

"Aw, he looks about ready to shit his pants now!" Adam snickered as he placed his hands on his hips, "How cute."

Barrett's eyes were darting back and forth between the three men, his face paling by the second. Gabriel was no better; he looked downright terrified as he chewed on his bottom lip, unable to even look any of the men in the eye.

"You had to know Hunter was going to get involved eventually." Adam reasoned as he stared at the two Nexus members, "_Everyone_ knows that messing with Randy will get you a sledgehammer to the face."

"Did you think you'd get away with this, Barrett?" Hunter growled, his voice low, "Did you really think you could hurt him like that and I wouldn't do something about it?"

"I…I didn't think Orton would have the spine to tell you." Wade scoffed, voice filled with false confidence.

"Oh Wade…now you're just being _stupid_." Adam laughed as if he'd just been told a fantastic joke, "You left him hurt and bleeding on the floor of his locker room…_of course_ someone was bound to find him. Don't you know that if you're going to really hurt someone you got to do it somewhere they won't easily be found? Like…maybe somewhere far from town…in the dark…somewhere people won't think to look…"

Barrett and Gabriel exchanged looks, both unable to hide the worry in their eyes.

"Oh, this is going to be so much fun!" Copeland cackled, shaking his head as he turned to look at John, "Can we hurry up and start? I was looking forward to this the entire ride over here."

"So that's it?" Wade asked hurriedly, "You're just going to…to assault us and leave us out here in the middle of nowhere? I'm your coworker, you can't just—"

"Maybe you should've thought of that before you hurt Randy." Hunter snarled, baring his teeth like an angry animal, "Maybe you should've realized that someone was going to want to make you pay for this…"

"You really are just being dumb at this point, Barrett. I mean, come on, meeting Cena out at an abandoned warehouse right after you raped his boyfriend? Doesn't that sound just a little silly to you?" Adam's face suddenly changed, his eyes going dark, voice turning from a giggle into a low snarl, "You're lucky Cena told me not to bring my knife. I would've _cut_ you Barrett…I would've cut you like a fucking _pig_…I would've cut you and made you fucking _squeal_!"

"You made a choice, Barrett," John shook his head solemnly, "And now I'm afraid you have to pay the consequences."

Hunter, Adam, and Cena all stepped forward. Barrett and Gabriel tried to run, tried to make it into their car on time, but at that point there was little they could do to escape. Hunter's rage, Adam's psychosis, and John's bloodthirsty desire for justice were too much for the two men to handle. They tried to fight, but in the end…it didn't make much of a difference.

* * *

**Only one more chapter to go! Please review, and if you've got the time, I have a new poll up on my profile for anyone who's interested in future fics by me! Oh, and for anyone who's interested in more Centon by me, I just recently started working on my other Centon fic titled 'Horror', if you want to go check that out. **


	22. Together

Randy knew John was there, even before he opened his eyes.

He was laying in his bed, cotton sheets wrapped around his warm body, sticking to him because he was getting hot and starting to sweat. His eyes were shut, and his body was completely still, but he hadn't been sleeping. Sleep had been avoiding him for nearly an hour now, but he didn't want to wake up just yet. He didn't want to talk to Morrison. As nice as the guy was, as much as he had been trying to make Randy feel better about the situation, the fact was that Morrison wasn't Cena. And that alone was enough to make Randy not want to talk with him…plus, talking to Morrison acknowledged the fact that he, Randy Orton, had been attacked and raped by Wade Barrett. God, just thinking about that was enough to make Randy want to break something…preferably Barrett's nose. He'd been in shock when he first woke up, unable to believe what had happened. After the shock came shame; like a dirty blanket, it enveloped his entire body, making him want to rub his skin until he scrubbed away the feeling of Barrett's fingertips on his flesh. He'd scratched at himself, dragging his nails across his forearms and wrists until Morrison threatened to call Hunter. He'd stopped then, knowing he couldn't bear to face his former mentor after what Barrett had done to him. Despite Morrison's reassurances that none of this was Randy's fault, he couldn't help but feel disgusted with himself, as if he had done something horribly, grossly wrong. That feeling made Randy want to shut his eyes—shut out the _world_—forever, and that was why, when he couldn't sleep any longer, he merely lay in the bed, pretending to still be knocked out.

He heard the knocking on the door, heard Morrison stand up, heard the click of the doorknob turning, heard whispered voices, and then finally soft footsteps on the carpet. The door shut, and Randy heard someone approaching the side of the bed. Somehow he knew it was John; of course, he had recognized his voice instantly, even though it was obvious that Cena had been trying to be quiet. Morrison had left the room, he could tell from the stifling silence that filled the air as John came to a halt at his bedside. There was a scuffling against the carpet as John pulled out the chair that Morrison had been occupying. A soft grunt as he lowered himself down, his thick body gracefully sliding into the cushioned seat of the hotel chair. Pure, uninterrupted silence followed…and Randy found his heart quickening, pulse racing as he tried to steady his breathing, tried to appear asleep. As thrilled as he was to have Cena so close to him, he couldn't help but feel afraid. What would he say to John? What would John say to him? Part of Randy was scared that he would say the wrong thing, that he'd push John away…and another part of him, some deep, dark place in his mind, was afraid that John wouldn't have the right words to say. That John wouldn't be able to make this better, that John wouldn't be able to make him happy again. Randy couldn't get through this on his own…in the several hours that had passed since the _incident_, he'd come to that conclusion. And if John couldn't help him…well, Randy might as well take a leaping jump into hell right now.

"I know you're awake."

Randy's eyes snapped open, icy-pale irises immediately turning to focus on John. The Chaingang soldier was leaning forward in the chair, elbows set on the mattress, his chin resting on his hands. Cena was staring at Randy with tired, sagging eyes.

"You don't have to pretend to be sleeping." John chided softly, lips curving into a small, sad smile.

Suddenly Randy felt very, very foolish. Placing his palms down on the mattress, he pushed down, grimacing in pain as he tried to sit up.

"No!" John reached forward, placing his hand on Randy's deltoid, holding him in place.

"I want to sit up…" Orton protested, glaring up at John.

"You're still hurt." Cena shook his head, gently pressing down on Randy's arm.

"I'm ok." Randy insisted, but it was no use. He was still sore from the attack, and John's bulky, muscular arm was far too strong for him to fight. Cena wasn't even trying and he was easily holding Randy down with one hand.

They fell silent then, and John left his hand on Randy's shoulder, even though he wasn't struggling anymore.

"I don't remember you bringing me here." Orton muttered, eyes falling away from John's stony gaze.

"You were going in and out of consciousness the entire ride over." Cena replied slowly, his fingers tracing across Randy's bare skin over his shoulder, "By the time we got to the hotel, you were completely out."

"I don't remember any of that…" Randy said, eyes clouding over as he searched his mind for any remnants of the events after…after the _incident_. It was so strange, the last thing he remembered was lying on the tile floor in his locker room…and then to wake up in his own bed? Without any recollection of how he got there? It was disconcerting, almost frightening.

"You carried me all the way from your car up to here?" Randy raised his eyebrows as he looked back up at John, "That couldn't have been easy…"

John shrugged, "It was nothing. I'm just surprised I didn't run into anyone."

"I'm glad you didn't take me to the hospital." Randy murmured, his voice low as he avoided Cena's eyes, "Thanks."

"Believe me, I wanted to." John scowled, his fingertips absentmindedly circling against Randy's warm arm, traveling down from his shoulder to his bicep, "But I knew _you_ wouldn't want me to. I knew you'd be furious if I did."

"You're damn right I would've been furious." Randy growled, eyes darkening, "Nobody else needs to know about…this."

"If I brought you to a hospital...they might've been able to send him to jail." Cena's hand moved down from Randy's bicep, fingers drawing across his wrist, feeling the bumps of the muscles and tendons.

"I don't care." Randy shook his head adamantly, twitching under John's light touch, "I just…I just want to forget about this. I don't want the whole fucking world to know."

John didn't say anything. He was staring at Randy's wrist, his fingers outlining invisible shapes on Randy's inked skin. John reached up with his other hand then, and he was holding Randy's hand palm up with both his own hands, spreading Randy's fingers, tracing against Randy's palm, unable to stop himself from simply touching the Legend Killer.

"I…I thought you'd be here when I…when I woke up." Randy admitted, his voice so quiet John could barely hear him. He looked up, his darker eyes matching Randy's lighter stare, his chest tightening as he saw the incredible disappointment Orton was hiding.

"I'm sorry." John said, his grip on Randy's palm tightening, "I…I was so angry. I couldn't let him get away with this."

"Why do you even care?" Randy asked, his voice guarded, eyes locked on the corner of the bed.

"What do you mean?" John leaned away, tilting his head to the side as he looked down at Randy in confusion.

"Why do you care?" Orton repeated, shifting slightly, ignoring the bolt of pain that shot up his body, "We're not together…so why does it matter to you what happens?"

"Maybe I want to be together." Cena shrugged, his hands going still, fingers resting on Randy's open palm.

Randy stared at him blankly, as if he were speaking another language.

"You know…I like you a lot." John went on, fingers working across Randy's forearm, tracing the tattoos, "Do you like me?"

"Yeah." Randy nodded, but his eyes were still narrowed, suspicious even.

"Then…we should be together." Cena concluded with a wide smile, fingers coming to a halt on Randy's wrist once again.

"You make it sound so simple." Orton said drily.

"I like you and you like me." John shrugged again, his smile widening even more, "You're trying to make this complicated…because that's how you are. You like to be…_difficult_."

"I'm your coworker…we've always been enemies…you're the biggest hero the WWE's got. I'm probably one of their biggest villains. You've been working for the most hated faction currently in WWE…a faction that, currently, is out to make me as miserable as possible. Not to mention I was just assaulted by the leader of this faction…a sociopath who's main goal in life is to destroy _me_…and who enjoys using _you_ as a means to do that." Randy rolled his eyes, "Now tell me John…how is that _not_ complicated?"

"You think too hard." John gave a soft chuckle, "Don't think about all that…just think about me. I like you a lot Randy, and I want you to be my boyfriend."

"Boyfriend?" Orton almost choked on the word, it was so foreign to him.

"Yeah…_boyfriend_." Cena repeated back, "You know…I'll take you out on expensive dates, buy you nice things when you get mad at me, punch guys who try to flirt with you in the face, sleep with you every night…the works."

"Expensive dates?" Randy cocked an eyebrow, a sly smirk crossing his handsome face.

"Anything you want." John winced suddenly, "And I'm probably going to regret saying that." Images of a demanding, spoiled Randy Orton entered his mind, and John couldn't help but shudder at the thought of Randy having complete control over him. As much as he would enjoy it, John was sure that Randy would use that to his advantage.

"So…tell me, what did you do after you left here?" Randy asked, breaking John's thoughts.

"Hey, I'm not letting you change the subject…yet." Cena sat up indignantly, "Will you be my boyfriend?"

"Is that what you want?" Randy questioned, his voice slow and quiet.

"Yes." John nodded without hesitation, "But what do you want, Randy?"

Silence filled the room as Randy's gaze fell away from John, his tan, lithe body squirming uncomfortably on the bed. For a moment—just one, brief, fleeting moment—John was sure that Randy was going to say no.

"I…I want to be with you." Randy admitted finally, his voice sounding almost as if he himself were surprised with that answer.

"Good." John's smile morphed into a cruel smirk, "Because I told Barrett that you're mine now, and if he ever so much as looked at you the wrong way again, he'd have to answer to me."

"So…you _did_ go and see him." Randy's small smile faltered, his eyes darkening.

"I did much more then _see_ him…" Cena replied knowingly.

"Give him a taste of his own medicine?" Orton asked hopefully.

"Well…" John leaned forward, his hand sliding from Randy's arm across to his chest.

_Cena pulled his arm back, fingers curling shut. Snarling in rage, he struck out, his fist connecting with Barrett's face. The leader of the Nexus yelped in pain, stumbling backwards until he tripped over his own feet and collapsed to the asphalt. His brown eyes went wide, and he reached up, fingers gingerly rubbing his nose. The bridge had a strange angle to it, and there was red liquid gushing from his nostrils, pouring down his chin and onto the front of his t-shirt. _

"_You f-fucking prick!" Wade groaned, his voice thick, "You broke my n-nose!"_

"_Oh, don't worry Wade." Cena hissed, "I'm not done yet."_

_I stepped forward, pulling his fist back again. Barrett tried to dodge the punch this time, but he wasn't fast enough. Screaming in agony as John's fist slammed into his jaw, Barrett went reeling backwards, his back skidding across the rough surface of the parking lot, asphalt cutting into his skin. _

"You broke his nose?" Randy grinned sadistically, shifting in the bed, the sheets pulling against his bare waist.

"I guess I did." John shrugged humbly, unable to suppress a self-satisfied smile, "It was definitely bent and crooked."

"How'd you get past his guard dogs?" Orton asked, shivering slightly as John's fingers drew across his chest, kneading the muscles.

"I did some thinking before I met up with them, and I realized that very, very few people are crazy enough—or evil enough—to be ok with attacking someone like Barrett did to you." John explained, his hand moving lower, "I guessed that Slater and Otunga probably weren't in on Wade's tricks, and I was right. They had no idea of what he had been doing to you."

"So what happened?" Randy persisted, goosebumps flaring across his skin as John's fingers moved down his side.

"Slater and Otunga bailed." Cena shrugged, his smile growing even wider as his hand came to a rest on Randy's hip, "I told them what was up and they took off."

"Guess they aren't such bad guys after all." Randy muttered thoughtfully, his eyes growing distant.

"I don't know… I think they weren't really happy with the direction the Nexus had been taking anyway." John went on, "They left pretty quickly. Hunter said there was probably bad blood already—"

"Hunter?" Randy's icy eyes went even colder, if that possible, "You…you saw Hunter?"

"I'm sorry." John winced as Randy's expression turned dark, "But…I didn't know if Slater and Otunga were on Barrett's side or not. I didn't want to face the whole group alone, so I got some help."

_At some point Barrett had been foolish enough to get up. He wobbled on his two feet, swaying back and forth, his brain still rocked from Cena's earlier assault. The blood flow from his nose had slowed to a steady drip, but his shirt was covered in a single, massive red stain. He's gone pale in the face, a black bruise already beginning to show on the line of his jaw. His brown eyes were going in and out of focus, the pupils randomly dilating and constricting as his eyes darted back and forth between John and Hunter, positive that another attack was coming, but unsure of who was to deliver it._

"_You deserve this, Barrett." The blonde growled, his voice low and husky._

_Hunter surged forward with a speed normally unknown to a man as large as him. Barrett's slow, disoriented mind had no chance of reacting in time to save himself, and he looked rather pathetic as he threw up his forearms in some pitiful attempt to shield himself. Hunter's first punch struck him in the gut, causing Barrett to double over, hollering in pain, feeling like a train had rammed into his stomach. Barrett had crumbled to his knees, arms wrapped around his middle when the second hit came. Hunter struck out with his foot in a vicious side kick, knocking Wade right in the chest. The Nexus leader was sent sprawling to the ground, screaming in fear and horrendous pain as he landed on his back. _

"_I have been away from RAW for too long." Hunter shook his head sadly as he stared down at the writhing man, "If he thought he could do this to Randy and get away with it…then I have been away far too long."_

"_So come back." John urged, turning towards his blonde ally._

"_You know Cena, that's not a bad idea." Hunter sneered down at the broken man at their feet, "I think it's time I return and put scum like him back in their place."_

"Hunter did all that…for me?" Randy shook his head in disbelief, still scowling deeply, "I don't believe it. He hates me now…"

"Randy…" John sighed deeply, reaching up with his free hand to rub his eyes, "I don't think Hunter's _ever_ hated you. He just can't stand to see you make bad decisions and hurt yourself…which you _do_ have a habit of doing."

"If he's coming back…" Randy groaned, squeezing his eyes shut in annoyance, "Damn it, he's never going to let me out of his sight after all this." Hunter had always been so protective of him…Randy couldn't imagine how much worse he was going to be now after what Barrett had done. Just the thought of his old mentor returning made Orton want to groan. From this point on he wouldn't be able to do _anything_ without Hunter watching his back, making sure he wasn't about to get hurt. It was going to be like Evolution all over again…not that that was a bad thing.

"Yeah, he wanted to come see you tonight." John nodded, his fingers mindlessly circling around Randy's jutting hip bone, "Actually, they both did. But I told them you'd be tired…actually, I just wanted you all to myself. But you're not going to be able to hide from them forever…they're both going to want to talk to you eventually."

"Just who exactly are 'they'?" Randy scowled again, folding his arms across his bare chest, "Who else did you get besides Hunter?"

"Adam." John answered quietly, "Adam Copeland."

"_Not so fast!"_

_Gabriel had tried to scurry away like the little rat he was, but Adam was far too fast for him. Taking a sprinting start, Adam leapt through the air, spearing the South African in the abdomen, causing them both to tumble to the ground. Justin was gasping loudly, his lungs desperately trying to suck in oxygen. Adam had knocked the wind out of him, and it was a horrible feeling, not that much unlike drowning. They rolled back and forth on the asphalt, but Adam quickly landed on top of the much smaller man, pinning him to the ground with his legs. Pulling his fists back, Adam punched him once, twice, three times in the face, his fists colliding with Justin's jaw and cheeks so hard that the younger man quickly had three large, purple bumps swelling across his face. _

_Adam didn't stop there though, oh no, he was enjoying himself far too much to stop…_

"I haven't talked to Adam in months…maybe even years." Randy shook his head, eyes staring off into the distance, "I can't believe…I didn't think he'd do something like that for me."

"They both still care about you a lot, Randy." John replied quietly, "They're real worried about you. Like I said, they wanted to come up here and see you."

"I'm glad they didn't." Orton sighed tiredly, "I don't think I could handle an interrogation right now. And Hunter's going to want to lecture me into next week… So what now?"

"What do you mean?" John arched an eyebrow, unsure of what Randy was asking.

"What do you want to do now?" Randy shrugged, looking up at John expectantly.

"You look tired." Cena answered with a knowing smile, "Maybe we should get some sleep. I've been up for almost twenty-four hours straight now….sleep sounds real good. Especially sleep with you."

Randy didn't answer, but he sat up slightly, propping himself on his elbows, shuffling over to the other side of the bed. John took this as an invitation, and he stood up, pushing the chair out from underneath him. Reaching down, he wrapped his fingers around the hem of his white shirt, quickly lifting it over his head and tossing it to the carpet. Nimble fingers working at the button and zipper of his jeans, John yanked down his pants, kicking them to the side. Standing before Randy in a pair of tight, black boxer briefs, he reach down, gripping the floral-printed comforter of the hotel bed. Pulling it out, he climbed into the bed, immediately curling up against Randy's warm body. The Viper practically purred in pleasure, turning onto his side, facing away from John. Cena needed no more encouragement, and he curled his hard body against Randy's much bronzer frame, reaching out and wrapping his bulging, muscular arm around Randy's waist. Orton gasped in surprise as John suddenly pulled them together, nuzzling against the back of Randy's neck, causing goosebumps to surge across Randy's back. They laid like that in silence, Randy's leaner frame curled into the curve of John's thicker, harder body. It was so quiet in the room, so warm in the bed next to Randy, so comfortable under the blankets that John could soon feel sleep tugging his eyes shut. Randy's breathing had become steady, his chest rising and falling slowly as he too began to feel the events of the day catch up to him. John couldn't help but smile against Randy's neck, his lips moving across the hot skin.

"Johnny?"

John opened his eyes instantly at the sound of Randy's voice.

"I can't stop feeling him." Randy whispered, his voice low and guilty.

John lay silent, stunned, unsure of what to say.

"When I close my eyes…it's like I'm back in the locker room." Randy went on, "I…I don't know what to do to stop thinking about it."

"Randy…" John reached over, gripping Randy's hand with his own, "You're only human. You can't expect to get over this quickly…but it will get better. I promise."

"I'll get better?" Randy asked, his voice wavering and unsure.

"Yes Randy, you will." John pulled Randy tightly against him, Randy's back pressed up against his own chest, "And I'll be here with you every step of the way. And you know what? Hunter and Adam will too."

"Ok…ok." Randy nodded to himself.

Randy fell asleep first, his body going very still, leaving John in an ocean of his own thoughts. He fought to stay awake, if only because he loved holding Randy against him, but in the end exhaustion began to take hold. He fell asleep thinking about the long road ahead, thinking about how difficult it would surely be to help Randy erase the horrible memories Barrett had etched into his brain. It would be a long time before things were good again for Randy, John was sure, and he knew that the next few weeks, months, hell, maybe even years would be hard on the both of them. But Randy wouldn't go through it alone, John would make sure of that.

Cena fell asleep dreaming of icy blue eyes, and thinking that finally—_finally_—everything was going to be ok.

* * *

**Yes, this is the end. As much as I have enjoyed writing this story, I am thrilled to finally have it complete.**

**_However..._**

**While I always fully intended on ending the story at this point, I now feel that I cannot. I feel like there are simply too many unresolved issues left over, most importantly the issue of Hunter and Adam re-inserting themselves back into Randy's life. I also feel like I wouldn't be doing the story justice if I didn't explore Randy's recovery after the rape, as well as the development of John and Randy's relationship into something more serious. For these reasons, I am contemplating writing a brief sequel that addresses these issues and resolves them. I can't make any promises, and if I do do a sequel, it won't be for quite some time (I really need a break from this story). But its in my mind, and perhaps depending upon the responses I get, maybe eventually I'll get around to writing it. **

**That all being said, thank you to all my reviewers. Your kind words are really what keep me writing. A special shout out to SLSheartsRKO, takers dark lover, Addicted to Cenaton, WraithRaider, IsidoraAngst, LadyDragonsblood, and everyone else who seriously reviewed like every chapter. Ya'll are what keep me writing, this story wouldn't exist without you, and for that I thank all my reviewers. You guys are awesome. **


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